


a place where the sun doesn't shine

by hitoshi (dami_an)



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Decapitation, Drama & Romance, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, M/M, Murder, Mutilation, Prostitution, Questionable Moral Values, The Author Regrets Nothing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-06-23 12:25:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19701325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dami_an/pseuds/hitoshi
Summary: [TW] [M] One lawless place, four different individuals, all is entwined into a story.





	1. SMH || The Executioner: PT 1

**Author's Note:**

> **[Trigger Warnings]** : This story contains graphic details of various mature elements such as violence, murder, decapitation, mutilation, dubious consent, prostitution, drugs and questionable moral values. Please take note that the author does not condone nor support any of these elements. Wrong means wrong. No means no regardless of how twisted the reason is. The author would like to advise that the readers should take this story with a grain of salt.
> 
> Please read with caution. You may leave if it isn't your cup of tea.
> 
> **[Disclaimer]** : This story is entirely fictional and based on imagination only. Any similarities with actual individuals, alive or dead, settings and events are purely coincidental. The author also gains nothing but satisfaction from this story.
> 
> (and it doesn't reflect the author's state of mind, either)
> 
> crossposted on [aff](https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1403592/a-place-where-the-sun-doesn-t-shine)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/_hit0shi) as @_hit0shi

The first cervical vertebra in the spine that supports the skull was named Atlas, after the titan who was defeated in his battle with Zeus and condemned to hold up the heavens at the edge of the world.

Such a little thing. But holds a significant role.

It's the only place Song Mino always aims at for decapitation.

Decapitation isn't easy. It requires skills and precision. 

When his target has their head hanging down, the space between their atlas and the axis vertebrae spreads, and it's easy to insert the sword into it. However, if they're standing at attention, the space between the atlas and axis is blocked, and it's harder for the blade to pierce through.

Mino couldn't care less, though. Everything is possible for his katana, anyway. Either way, both promise something he loves the most.

Raining blood.

Blood on his katana. On his hands. On his suit. On the carpeted floor. On the mahogany table. Even in his hair.

Sea of deep crimson. Mino's favorite colour.

"Are you done in there?" A voice comes from the door.

Mino lifts his head.

In the doorway is Lee Seunghoon, his partner in crime. Mino can see the evidence of his work on his bloody axes and overalls as Seunghoon steps around the dead bodies on the floor.

"Almost done."

Mino drops his bag on the bloody floor. He takes out a white cloth and puts his target's head in it. Then he places the wrapped head in the bag.

A gift. Adorned with white rose petals. For his client.

A noise. From the closet. Mino snaps his gaze towards the sound. Everything falls silent again, but then—

A whimper. Mino springs to his feet and makes his way towards the closet, with his katana ready in his hand. He wrenches the door open.

Two kids. A girl and a boy huddle together and shake with fear.

Oh.

"Hyung," Mino calls out to Seunghoon.

Seunghoon peeks into the closet. "Oh my. What do we have here?"

"Probably his children," Mino guesses.

"What was the client's specific request again?" Seunghoon asks, reaching his hand inside. The kids whimper louder as they attempt to inch away from Seunghoon's bloody hand.

"Erase everything related to his gang."

"Oh," Seunghoon says, "That's too bad."

There's a note of glee in Seunghoon's voice. Mino sighs. He's going to be late today.

...

This lawless shithole Mino calls home offers no pretty sight. Almost every back alley is another crime scene. Another place to bury ugly pasts. Used condoms, bloody clothes, even used needles—they are littered everywhere. A common sight to stumble upon.

Gangs, drugs, prostitution and violence have rooted deeply in this broken society. Ugly. Disgusting.

Nothing beautiful can be found here.

Except.

Kang Seungyoon. An assistant baker who works down the street.

Mino likes him. Likes his company. He's all smiles and positive vibes. Nags all the time but always means well. Generous and kind towards anyone regardless of their appearance and identity.

A ray of hope in Mino's cold world.

"Good evening, Mino-sshi!" Seungyoon greets, skipping out of the bakery.

Mino smiles around his cigarette. It's always been Seungyoon who greets first. Always been Seungyoon, never Mino. As if he's been waiting for him to walk past the bakery. Mino likes that thought.

"Evening."

"You're late today."

"My job held me up." Or rather, it was Seunghoon. Mino doesn't say this. Seungyoon needs no explicit details of what he does for a living.

Seungyoon cranes his neck to peek at the bag Mino is carrying. "The bag—your job?"

"Yeah." Mino plucks his cigarette from his lips, puffing out a breath. "Did anything special today?"

"Oh, oh!" Seungyoon perks up at that. He begins to ramble away, "So I got this new recipe from Dara-nonna, right. Strawberry cream cheese pastry. Hers was so delicious, so I thought I'd make some. Spent the entire morning making them. But Janghoon-sunbaenim said they were horrible! Imagine my despair!!!"

Mino huffs a chuckle. "For a baker, you suck at baking."

"I could be better! Can be better!!!" Seungyoon refutes.

"...Right."

Seungyoon falls into a long rambling after that, and Mino listens to him, amused to see him getting so worked up. He should be moving, really, to meet his middle man to get his payment. He should be moving because his shoulder aches from carrying the bag.

He should be moving because soon the blood is going to drip down the bag and stain the back of his new suit.

But Mino stays. He stays because nothing is better than listening to Seungyoon whine about his day.

...

Mino wonders how Seungyoon would look like in crimson red, bathed in his own blood, his head served on a silver plate, adorned with white roses.

Beautiful, Mino reckons.

...

The notification sound from his phone is loud in the quiet living room. Mino pauses his sketching and checks his phone. An old model, but it does the job just fine.

A text from his middle man—a new job.

Seunghoon walks through the front door, armed with paper bags this time. Ingredients for dinner, probably.

Weird, Mino thinks. No, not those paper bags. Weird because Seunghoon is whistling happily.

"Something good happened?" Mino asks from the couch. He taps the cigarette ash into the ashtray on the table.

"Yep!" comes a reply from the kitchen.

"What."

"I went to Lotus."

Mino raises a brow, his thumb poised over the scroll button. "What were you doing there? You don't drink."

"I found a beaut."

Ah, poor thing. Not gonna live long, huh. A pity smile blooms unbidden on Mino's lips. "Beautiful enough to leave their mutilated body in front of the police station?"

"Nope."

And Seunghoon is suddenly standing at the back of the couch, with a broad grin. Mino's fingers twitch, looking for his katana. An impulse honed by rough years.

"Beautiful enough to be my masterpiece."

When Mino catches the slight twinkle in Seunghoon's eyes, he smiles around the cigarette. He doesn't do pray, so he hopes. He hopes whoever caught Seunghoon's eyes accepts their life is no longer theirs.

"Good for you, hyung," Mino says, returning to the text. "Don't play your knife in my face, please."

"Oopsie daisy." Seunghoon pulls away. "What's that? A new job?"

"Yeah."

"Who's the target?"

"Fox."

"Oh, heard that he's been causing problems lately." Seunghoon goes back to the kitchen. He hollers, "Are you gonna accept that job? Pasta for dinner?"

"Nope. He's slippery as fuck." Then adds, "Pasta is okay."

Mino wrinkles his nose when he recalls the way the Fox parkoured his way out of a warehouse. As impressive as it was, Mino felt exhausted just by looking at him. Mino may be a hitman, endurance isn't his thing.

Plus, the guy helped him before. A couple of times. He's not the type who bites the hand that feeds him.

"Oh, okay," Seunghoon replies. "Hey, just so you know, I gave your number to Jinu."

"Who's Jinu?" Mino knits his brows together, confused.

"My beautiful angel."

"So he's your—wait, why did you give him my number? He's your boytoy. I have nothing to do with this shit."

"I don't have a phone," Seunghoon sing-songs.

"Buy one!"

...

Another job. Another sufficient payment. Another head to collect.

More blood to spill.

It's a good day, Mino thinks.

...

It is a fine day, and Mino finds his beautiful angel crouching near a bin in an alley.

"What are you doing?" Mino tries to sneak a peek.

In front of Seungyoon is a stray cat, tail bushed up, hissing and bristling at Seungyoon. There are some kibbles on the ground too.

Seungyoon glances over his shoulder. "Oh, Mino-sshi. Hi."

"What's with that cat?" Mino asks.

"Not sure." Seungyoon rubs the nape of his neck.  Seungyoon offers his hand to the cat. It yowls angrily and swats its claws at him. He manages to avoid it with a hair's breadth.  "I tried to offer him food, but he keeps hissing at me," Seungyoon pouts.

"No shit, man."

The cat runs away. Seungyoon calls out, "Wait, you haven't eaten—ah, there you go," and gives up when the cat swings into a corner. Seungyoon pushes himself up to his feet.

"That wasn't kind, that cat," Mino remarks aloud. "Are you okay? Did it manage to scratch you somehow?"

Seungyoon scratches his cheek sheepishly. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Only my pride is wounded. I thought I've gotten used to it by now. I guess I was wrong."

"Does this always happen?"

"Kind of." Seungyoon shrugs. "For some reason, animals seem to hate me. I don't know why, though."

Aw, poor thing. Mino cracks a smile. "I don't hate you, though."

Seungyoon widens his eyes. Then laughs. "You're too kind, Mino-sshi. Ah, no job for today?"

Mino rolls his shoulder out of pure reflex. No bag to hinder his movement. "No. I'm just wandering around."

According to his informant, his next target prefers to hang out at this side of the town. And Mino is better at recon than Seunghoon.

"You should've left your sword at home, then." Seungyoon points at his katana he's carrying.

"Many bullies hang out here. Better safe than sorry," Mino smirks. "You, on the other hand, I doubt you were crouching down here in this hot afternoon just to feed that stray cat."

"Ah, that. Well, Janghoon-sunbaenim said he's going to receive some visitors today." Seungyoon fiddles with his own fingers. They're all flushed, red from the blood.

Something hot and sharp spikes up inside Mino. It takes him everything to fight his urges down.

"From the gang?" Mino asks.

Seungyoon looks away. "Yeah. He said it was too dangerous for me, so he asked me to leave. I'm worried about him, though."

"Do you want me to teach them a lesson for you?" Mino offers, without batting eyelashes. Like it's a natural thing. Like violence is an answer to everything.

In his defense, in his world, yes, it is.

Seungyoon stares then he shakes his head. "No, thank you. I appreciate your offer, but we're fine like this."

"Fine? Your boss has to pay a crazy amount of money every month for protection, and you said you're fine? That's crazy."

Seungyoon is quiet for a moment. A moment that's long enough for Mino to think that his words may have snapped some senses in him.

But, dear, Seungyoon does surprise him.

"With all due respect, Mino-sshi, this is the only way for the bakery to survive. I'm glad knowing you have the necessary skills to live in this world, but an ordinary man like Janghoon-sunbaenim can only depend on other people to survive. Even if you eliminate this gang, another will replace them soon. So, please, leave his peaceful life and the gang alone."

Ah, there is it, the quality he loves the most, the one that he rarely sees on this side of the town; staying firm his ground. Never wavers from his word. Never strays from his belief.

His firm eye contact burns the fire in Mino's gut, and really, Mino has this sudden urge to tear Seungyoon's head away right off the bat and watch his blood drizzle like rain.

That would be beautiful.

"Alright, I respect your wish. Please forget that I ever offered." Mino holds up his hands. "Seems like you have some free time. Do you want to hang out with me for a bit?"

"Hang out? Where?"

Mino points ahead. "The afternoon market. It's not that far."

A grin breaks across Seungyoon's face. "I'd be happy to!"

...

Seunghoon returns to their apartment one night all bloody and tattered. Mino just watches in silence from the couch as Seunghoon makes his way to the bathroom.

The shower runs loudly. Seunghoon probably forgets to close the door again. Mino places his sketchbook on the coffee table. He shouts, "A job, hyung?"

"No."

Not a cheerful tone. Mino can hazard a guess. He sighs. "Do I need to bury the body?"

"Pigs need not a grave."

"What did they do this time?"

His phone chirps. Mino reads the message; another Fox job. Higher payment. He frowns. Persistent bastards. Mino replies 'no' to the text.

Seunghoon says, "They touched what belongs to me."

Oh, that explains his pissed mood. It's about the Jinu guy from Lotus. "I know I insisted that this has nothing to do with me, but I need to know, hyung. Does he happen to be a gigolo?"

Mino obtains his answer from Seunghoon's silence. He can feel a headache coming.

"Tell you what, hyung, I'll drop by Lotus tomorrow. I'll have a slow talk with Mama, see if she can give your boytoy another job," Mino suggests. "In return, you're gonna help me with this job. No payment for you."

Seunghoon skips out of the bathroom in that instant second, all dripping wet and smiles. "Okay!"

"Goddammit, hyung, I don't need to see your junk hanging out!"

...

It was a long talk, indeed. Apparently, this Jinu guy has many regulars, so it's understandable why Mama was reluctant to agree to his suggestion. She didn't even sway when he sweet talked her. That bruised his pride.

Never mind. All is well, in the end.

Mino escapes the office with a heavy sigh. Even his katana feels heavy in his hold.

In the hallway, a guy is waiting for him—straight silky hair, huge eyes, long eyelashes, pink lips. In short, he's pretty. Maybe prettier than girls.

"I'm not a damsel in distress, asshole. I can take care of myself," he says, with a surprisingly deep voice.

Ah, realization dawns on Mino. This is Seunghoon's boytoy. 

Mino tips his head to the side and smirks. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm doing this for my own peace of mind."

"Bullshit."

Mino crosses the hallway and grabs him by the chin. Fear is apparent on his pretty face. Mino digs his nails a little deeper into the skin just because it's fun.

"Let me tell you this; you've caught the beast's interest." 

The pretty guy maintains the eye contact, but Mino can see fear swimming in them. Glee bubbles up in Mino's chest.

"Lee Seunghoon doesn't do share. He'll kill anyone who touches you. If I didn't step in now, I'm afraid that possessive side of his would cause a bigger problem, and believe me, you wouldn't want that to happen."

Mino releases him then backs away. The pretty guy rubs his mouth and glares at him. Ah, temptation, temptation. His fingers twitch to unsheath the blade. Too bad he's taken by Seunghoon. Mino would love to see blood dripping down his neck.

"I'm in a generous mood right now, so I'm gonna tell you this; your life is no longer yours to decide. Welcome to this shitty life." Mino grins.

"Like how you decide the lives of those you've taken?" he scorns. "You and your psycho friend, you murderers are nothing but trash!"

Rage shimmers under his skin, not too hot that he feels the urge to draw his katana, but it's noticeable nonetheless. "At least we never bitch about our life. How about you?"

He flinches a little. Ah, bullseye. Satisfaction spreads across Mino's chest, and Mino can't help but smile.

There's a clack from the room four doors away, and someone stumbles out with a pitiful whine, in the arms of beautiful girls. Mino turns to his right. Someone in a white uniform, someone in a baker uniform, someone with red hair—

— red hair .

Kang Seungyoon with  red hair .

"Seungyoon-ah?" The pretty guy rushes towards him.

"Jinwoo-sshi, help me," Seungyoon cries out, struggling to escape from the girls' wandering hands as they play with his hair. "Oh, hi, uh, Mino-sshi."

"Red really suits him," one of them cheers.

"I'm so happy our experiment worked," another says.

"Don't you dare dye your hair back without our permission, Yoonie!" someone warns.

A girl in black lingerie puts her arms around Seungyoon's shoulder. She grazes her plump lips against his. "Yoonie, you look so good in red. Play with me today, I'll give you a discount."

"Girls, girls." The pretty guy pulls Seungyoon away from their greedy hands. The girls whine. "Seungyoon is not a customer. He's here to deliver our dessert. Mama will be angry if she knows you played with him."

"But we didn't play with Yoonie. We just dyed his hair, and he agreed too," one of them says. Then she runs her purple-painted finger down Seungyoon's cheek. "Didn't you, Yoonie?"

Seungyoon hides behind the pretty guy. "You tricked me!"

"You've traumatized him enough. Now do your job, shoo," the pretty guy dismisses them.

The girls purse their lips, but they disperse nonetheless. A girl in brown corset winks at Seungyoon before she runs down the stairs, and Seungyoon squeaks behind the pretty guy.

When the girls are gone, Seungyoon looks around cautiously. Once he feels safe, he grabs both of the pretty guy's wrists and swings them up and down exaggeratedly. "That was so scary. Thank you, Jinwoo-sshi."

"Can't blame them. You're too adorable. I'd have eaten you too if you let me, Yoon." The pretty guy bats his lashes.

"Am not adorable," Seungyoon frowns. Then he turns around to Mino, beaming radiantly. "Mino-sshi, fancy meeting you here."

—ah, shit.

Mino storms past Seungyoon, barely catching Seungyoon's 'Mino-sshi?' as he heads for the stairs. He can feel Seungyoon's stare boring into the back of his head, but fuck it, he has to leave this brothel.

Like now.

He hasn't a clue how long he's been walking. He hasn't a clue how much distance he's put between him and the brothel. He hasn't a clue how many corners he's rounded into. He hasn't a clue how many flights of stairs he's climbed down and up.

All he knows, he has to stay away from Seungyoon before it gets ugly.

So he stomps and stomps and stomps, then—

Then he slows down. Not because he's tired. Not because he's confident in the distance he's put by far.

No. It's because of cockroaches that have been tailing him since he left Lotus.

Mino stops. Drops his gaze on his shadow. And says, "Only pussies aim for an ambush."

They begin to crawl out of their hidings. No confidence in their movements. Probably being ordered by the higher-up.

A guy is standing in front of him. Mino can see his gun. The other two are on his sides, while three are behind him.

"Song Minho, the Executioner, today you'll be executed instead," the guy in front of him says, bringing up his gun.

Hah, just perfect. A perfect timing.

Mino can't help the cackle. He really, really can't help it. He can't help the smirk, either. Can't help the wild beating of his heart, the blood rushing to his ears.

Can't help this excitement because—

Because, fuck, Seungyoon is so fucking beautiful in  red .

Mino draws his katana. The blade sings beautifully. A smirk stretches across his lips.

"You're in luck," Mino says. "You get to help me quench my thirst."

It rains blood that evening.

...

Seunghoon's cheerful voice greets him at home. "How did it go, did it work out? Hey, hey, I made your favorite; tteokbokki—uh oh. Wow."

Mino knows what brings Seunghoon short. Knows how he looks; drenched in blood from top to bottom. There is dried blood in his shoes too. Decapitating six grown men would do that to you.

"Did someone piss you off?" Seunghoon asks around a spoonful of tteokbokki sauce. "Wow, delicious. I'm so good at this."

"Ambush." Mino heads straight to the bathroom.

"Lemon and salt for blood stains!" Seunghoon calls out from the kitchen.

...

The image of Seungyoon with  red hair burns on his eyelids.

Mino slices another head off its body even though she isn't his target. Crimson red splutters from her sliced neck. Still not enough to tame his demons, though. He needs more. More. And more.

—wants Seungyoon's head in his arms—

Mino swings his sword. Blood splatters across his face. Beautiful, he thinks.

Seunghoon raises a brow but says nothing.

...

Seo Janghoon is a huge man. So huge it makes Mino feel wary of him. It was a wise decision to leave his katana at home for once.

"Is Seungyoon in today?"

Janghoon folds his massive arms over his broad chest. "What of it?"

"I would like to see him."

Janghoon regards him quietly. Mino maintains his friendly smile. He's been told many times his smiles often belie his ugly personality, and he's going to take advantage of that.

"He's been in a foul mood lately. Hope you can do something about it," Janghoon says. "He's in the kitchen."

"Thank you."

As Mino pushes through the revolving door of the bakery and walks inside, the noise of the main street is instantly muffled. His nose is filled with the sweet scent of vanilla.

Cakes, pies, and chocolates are arranged in a glass case. Tins of cookies are on either side. On the counter behind the register is a roll of orange and light blue checkered wrapping paper.

Mino goes to the kitchen and finds Seungyoon pulling out fresh baked cookies out of the oven.

Dammit, Seungyoon looks really, really good with that  red hair of his. Mino suppresses his insane urge.

"Hi."

Seungyoon brings the tray to the table. No eye contact.

"Look." Mino starts, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry about the other day. That was rude of me."

"Yeah?" Seungyoon replies distractedly, pulling out another tray.

"Yeah." When he receives no response from Seungyoon, Mino tries again. "What should I do to make you feel better?"

Seungyoon slots in a new tray of cookies into the oven. He sets the temperature and turns the timer on. "I don't know. You tell me."

"Okay. Those cookies, did you bake them?" Mino points at the cookies on the table.

"No. Janghoon-sunbaenim made them." At last, eye contact. Seungyoon frowns at him. "I suck at baking, remember?"

Ow. That cuts deep. Mino scratches the back of his head. "Sorry about that. But I'd still eat them if you made them."

"Really?" Seungyoon raises a brow.

"Yeah."

"Then—" Seungyoon rummages around in the cabinet and returns with a basket of cookies. He slides it across the table to Mino. He jerks his chin at the basket. "—prove it."

Aw, shit.

Mino takes one. Attempts to break it into two. Fails. "This cookie is hard. Might break a tooth or two."

Seungyoon doesn't look impressed.

With a sigh, Mino tries to take a bite. Unsuccessful. He bites harder until his gum aches. It breaks. His suffering doesn't end there, though. He feels like eating gravels at this point.

Wow, Seungyoon is really, really a shitty baker. It's not even a joke.

Mino peeks at Seungyoon. Seungyoon's face goes through a myriad of emotions. Emotionless to pity before it twists into guilt. Seungyoon rounds the table and snatches the cookie from his hand. He pitches the bitten cookie straight into the bin.

"That's enough."

"You told me to eat your cookie." Mino raises a brow.

Seungyoon grimaces. "No need to go that far."

"You said—"

"I know what I said. You've forgiven, satisfied?"

Mino swallows what's left in his mouth with difficulty, then looks Seungyoon in the eye. "I'm not satisfied if you're still upset with me. I hurt your feelings really bad that time."

"It was fine."

"It wasn't. I brushed you off. That was rude."

"That time," Seungyoon hesitates, his cheeks pink. "I wasn't angry with you. I was just... embarrassed. I thought I was so ugly with this red hair that you wouldn't talk to me."

Mino scoffs. "Ridiculous. You look great in  red . Really, really great. I love it."

Instantly, red rushes to Seungyoon's face. Even his ears. It matches his hair. Seungyoon tries to hide his face in his hands, but his flushed fingers betray him.

It's adorable. It's beautiful.

Mino's insides thrum with excitement and arousal.

"Are you free this evening? I'd like to hang out with you as an apology," Mino says.

"Where to?" Seungyoon rubs his nose with his sleeve. A speck of flour taints his red nose. Mino resists the urge to tap it away.

"You decide."

Seungyoon snaps his fingers. "Oh, I know a place."

...

The place Seungyoon brings him to is a florist shop on the outskirts of the town.

Lilies, carnations and daisies are lined up at the entrance, guarded by a wooden fence. Bouquets of chrysanthemums and kalanchoes fill the front side of the shop. The arrangement of the flowers never ceases to amuse Mino every time he comes to this shop. The owner of this shop really has a shitty taste.

The owner emerges from the shop. A neat-looking guy, with all buttons up. He has a polite smile on his face. "Good evening. Fancy having you here, Mino-sshi."

Mino ducks his head once. "It's always been a pleasure meeting you, Hanbin-sshi."

"You two know each other?" Seungyoon looks at them back and forth.

"Mino-sshi is a regular."

"Yeah, I'm particularly fond of their white roses," Mino supplies. "They grow the best roses."

"And Mino-sshi always brings the best gifts." Hanbin smiles sweetly.

Seungyoon makes an 'ah~' sound. "You two must be very close. That's great."

"And you are?" Hanbin asks. "Mino-sshi's friends are my friends too. I wouldn't mind recommending you the best flowers at the best price. Say that it's one of my marketing strategies to keep my regulars coming."

"I wouldn't want to take advantage of..." Seungyoon becomes flustered.

"That's fine," Mino assures. "Hanbin, Seungyoon. Seungyoon, Hanbin."

"Pleasure to meet you, Seungyoon-sshi." Hanbin offers his hand for a handshake. Seungyoon accepts it. Hanbin smiles, "Now, what do you have in mind?"

Seungyoon hums, thinking, "I would like to decorate my bakery with flowers. Most of my customers are girls, and they love flowers. So I thought maybe flowers could bring colors to the bakery. But nothing too excessive, please. Oh, yes, I'd like to keep this secret from my boss. This should be a surprise for him."

"Maybe my colleague could give you some ideas," Hanbin says. Then he calls out into the back of the shop, "Bobby, customer!"

A guy with a pair of small eyes behind huge glasses and messy brown hair stumbles out of the workshop. Sleeves folded up to the elbow, one of the pants is stitched short, even his apron is tied carelessly—the man is a mess.

"Yes?" Bobby adjusts his glasses.

"Seungyoon-sshi needs some advice on choosing flowers for his bakery. Would you please assist him?"

"Sure, sure."

Bobby leads Seungyoon inside. Mino and Hanbin watch in silence as Bobby walks Seungyoon through various choices of flowers.

"Last time it was your 7th time declining the Fox job." Hanbin scuffs his shoes into the ground. "I'm getting heartbroken here."

Mino lights up a cigarette, dropping his ass on the wooden fence. "That wasn't even your private request. You're just the middle man."

"Imagine my suffering when I had to relay to the clients that you weren't taking the job."

"There are many hitmen out there." Mino takes a long drag. The acidic smoke fills his lungs. It feels warm. Then he puffs it out into the open sky.

Hanbin huffs a laugh. "Those who I hired ended up getting killed."

Mino raises a brow. "That is new. Last time I checked, the guy didn't like getting his hand dirty. Now he kills people? Wow, people do change for the worst, after all."

"No, it wasn't him from what I gathered. My guy informed me that he's got a shadow now."

"A shadow?"

"A skillful one, I reckon. Most were killed with a single shot in the head. They dubbed him Grim Reaper."

"Did you identify the bullets?" Mino asks.

".357 Magnum. No fingerprints. The friction pattern revealed that it was the Desert Eagle model. The serial numbers have been erased. Probably bought from the South Gate. They won't talk, either—those savages." Hanbin wrinkles his nose as he speaks of this.

"Ooooh." Mino tries to sound interested but fails miserably.

"You don't have any idea what I was talking about, do you?" Hanbin gives him a look.

Mino doesn't attempt to look apologetic. He grins around his cigarette. "I use a sword for a reason. Gun wounds are too clean for my taste. Not enough to quench my thirst."

"Speaking of," Hanbin points at Seungyoon. "Your new favourite? How long have you been eyeing him?"

Mino follows Hanbin's line of sight. Seungyoon is laughing with Bobby between rows of sunflowers and marigolds. The yellow petals blend beautifully with Seungyoon's  red hair .

It's beautiful.

"I'm not sure. Five months, I think?"

"I'm surprised he's still alive. Getting soft, aren't you?"

"Haven't found the right timing yet."

"Didn't know you had it in you," Hanbin shoots back.

Mino cuts a glare at Hanbin, cold and firm. The one that means Mino is to rip his throat off should he have no care of what he says next. Hanbin, with a smile on his face, holds up his hands.

"My apologies, I crossed the line," Hanbin says. "Since we often do business together, I have a piece of advice for you."

Mino raises a brow.

"Reconsider the job," Hanbin tells him. "The bosses are getting restless. They will do anything to get rid of pests. Accept it while their payment still makes sense. Once they're desperate, they'll give you an offer that you can't absolutely decline."

Mino chuckles. "We'll see if I can raise it to a million won, then we talk."

Hanbin smiles. "Money isn't everything, Mino-sshi."

Bobby returns Seungyoon to Mino not long after that. Seungyoon has a satisfied smile when they leave the shop. He has skips in his steps too.

"You look happy," Mino remarks aloud.

"Bobby-sshi is a great person. He gave me so many good ideas for the bakery. I knew it was a great idea coming here for advice!!!" Seungyoon cheers.

Mino is quickly infected by Seungyoon's happiness as well. He grins. "As long as you're happy. Not bad for the first date, huh?"

Seungyoon stops dead in his track. He blinks. "A date?"

"Yeah, a date if you wish it to be. If not, hanging out with a friend is fine too," Mino says, coolly giving Seungyoon a way out if his feelings aren't reciprocated.

"A date..." Seungyoon says thoughtfully. Then he looks ahead, muttering. "We're doing it wrong."

"How so?"

"It should start with a confession."

Mino widens his eyes. Then grins. Seungyoon really loves to surprise him without even trying. He opens his mouth to say it, but Seungyoon beats him to it.

"I really, really like you, Mino-sshi."

Wow, a confession. Mino has anticipated this moment for a long time—to hear the confession from Seungyoon. But he never expects the feelings it caused.

The army of butterflies it brought upon in his gut. Painful and yet wonderful. Unbearable but amazing.

"Just like?"

Seungyoon blinks.

"Like 'like', or like 'like'? I'm afraid I don't understand what constitutes 'like' in this case," Mino smirks.

Seungyoon stares for a long moment before the realization hits him. He blushes. "Don't tease me like that! Do you know how hard it was to gather my courage just to confess to you?!"

"My bad, my bad," Mino laughs. "Should I say I like you too?"

"I don't know." Seungyoon's voice loses its confidence. He plays with his fingers. "Do you... like me?"

Mino pulls a small smile. He takes Seungyoon's hands in his own. They feel cold in his hands, but that's fine. He'll warm them up in no time.

"I think I like you," Mino says.

"You think?"

"Yeah, no, scratch that. I know I like you very, very much."

It's like watching a flower bloom in the early morning even though it's evening. The surprised expression slowly breaks into a shy smile, bright and radiant as Seungyoon ducks his head, embarrassed. The tips of Seungyoon's  red hair are aflame with orange and yellow. Like blood stained with evening light.

It's beautiful. Ethereal.

"We have confessed and had a date, could I kiss you now?" Mino asks cheekily.

The reaction is immediate. Seungyoon's face turns as red as a tomato. He shakes his head rapidly. "No, no, no, that's—too fast. That's another stage. This is—oh, my heart can't take this. Have some mercy on me, Mino-sshi!"

Mino laughs.

"Mino-sshi!" Seungyoon protests.

"Okay, okay—I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing," Mino manages between a peal of laughter. "That's okay. We can kiss when you're ready. We're going at your pace."

Seungyoon looks guilty. "I'm sorry if this is too slow for you. This is new to me—"

Mino cuts him off. "At your pace. I'll be willing to wait for you so long as you have me."

It'll be worth it. Mino just knows.

Seungyoon stares at him. Bites his bottom lip. And nods, with a small, shy smile. "Thank you, Mino-sshi."

"Anything for you," Mino promises.

Yes, Mino will do anything for Seungyoon. He'll do anything until the perfect time comes. Until Seungyoon trusts him. Until Seungyoon can't breathe without him.

Until Seungyoon himself offers him his head.

Yes, that will be perfect.


	2. KJW || The Beauty: PT 1

Humans are disgusting creatures.

Liars. Selfish bastards. Manipulative assholes.

He sees humans, but no humanity. The word itself is on the brink of extinction, anaesthetized with the poison of cruelty and greed, and Kim Jinwoo learns this the hard way.

This body of his—long legs, slim body, pale skin, effeminate face with long lashes—is both a curse and blessing. It's the reason how he survived thus far, and also the reason why he hates this world.

Tainted by greedy hands almost every night for some notes. Each touch erases a small part of faith he has in humanity, together with his soul, until all he's left with is a broken shell.

Used. Dirty. Soulless. Only filled with wrath.

Jinu wishes he could get away from this life. Wishes he had the guts to take away his own life. Wishes he could kill Mama and free himself from her chain.

He wishes and wishes and wishes. Desperately so.

And one evening—

It's no different from another evening. Time to take pills provided by Mama. Jinu escapes into the back alley with the pills and a bottle of water. His hips still ache from serving two customers three hours prior. He can feel the ghost of their touches lingering.

Fucking disgusting, those pigs.

Jinu downs the pills and washes the bitter taste with water. The taste lingers. He wipes his mouth with the sleeve.

He looks up at the sky. The sky is blue, probably the bluest he's ever seen that it's almost painful to watch. Feels his eyes sting. Realizes a drop of warm liquid skating down his cheek.

He chuckles. Tears, really. Now of all times. It doesn't make sense.

But the tears don't stop. Chuckles morph into broken sobs. Jinu finds himself crouching down, face buried his hands as he sobs. He doesn't even know what he's crying for.

"Hungry?"

Shocked, Jinu snaps his head up. In front of him is a guy with the bright orange hair that rivals the sunset and two small axes tucked around the hips—

Jinu instinctively jumps away until his back hits the brick wall. Fear runs through his veins.

It's the Beast, Lee Seunghoon. A crime partner of Song Minho, the Executioner. Infamous for his insanity and lack of mercy. All of his victims are found in pieces until identification becomes a difficult task.

Shit.

The whole of Jinu's body shakes with fear. The bottle slips from his clammy hands and spills water on the dirty ground. It rolls away from him, but Jinu can't find himself to give a shit about because—

Because he's going to die here today. Chopped into pieces before getting shoved into a plastic bag like he's no different from a chunk of meat.

"Are you hungry?" the Beast asks.

Jinu blinks.

The Beast sighs. He rummages into one of the paper bags he's cradling and fishes bread out. He holds the bread out in front of Jinu. "Bread?"

Jinu looks at the bread, then at the Beast. He shakes his head.

"No? Okay..." The Beast peers into his paper bags. "I don't have anything other than bread to offer. These all are raw ingredients for dinner. Uhm, pepper bell?"

Confused, Jinu stares at him. When the silence becomes awkward, Jinu realizes he's waiting for his reply. Jinu snaps himself out of it and says, "No. Thank you, but no. I'm not—I'm not hungry."

"You were crying."

Right, that. Jinu wipes his tears away with his sleeve.

"Hang on, I think I still have that grocery list paper—fuck, I threw that away—aha, a pen!"

The Beast scribbles something on top of the paper bag then tears it apart. He gives the written piece to Jinu. Jinu stares at him but accepts it anyway.

Numbers. There are numbers written there.

"If you're hungry, don't cry. Call that number instead. I can cook. Uhm, that's my friend's number, though," he says.

Jinu swallows then crumples the paper in his hand. He forces himself to his feet, eyes down.

"I wasn't crying—I was—" When his words fail him, Jinu goes back to Lotus.

...

He doesn't throw the paper away, though.

...

Life goes on after that.

Another day, another customer.

This time, the lady luck isn't on his side, though. His customer is an exhibitionist bastard. Gets off when people watch them fuck. When people watch him struggle on the damned cock in broad daylight.

"Sir—please—can we go somewhere more secluded—sir, please!"

A sharp thrust from behind, and Jinu's breath stutters. The constricting corset around his waist doesn't help either. The leather bites into his skin. His nails dig deeper into the wall in front of him, a vain attempt to distract himself from the pain.

The bastard pulls his hair and hisses into his ear. "Shut up, whore. Just fucking take it like you're meant to! You're paid for this!"

Jinu grits his teeth, clearly in pain. Fucking selfish asshole. He hasn't been paid enough for this kinky shit. But that's clearly none of the fucker's concern as he continues fucks Jinu into oblivion.

What a shitty day.

...

Seungyoon comes by to deliver cheeseballs for dessert, ordered by Mama. He widens his eyes when he sees Jinu.

Jinu is aware of his pathetic state; a rumpled shirt with missing buttons, visible bites around his neck as he makes the walk-of-shame into the brothel. He wouldn't blame him if Seungyoon decided to keep their distance.

But, bless Seungyoon, he rushes towards him and helps Jinu walk to an empty booth in a corner.

"Please wait here. I'll get water for you," Seungyoon says.

Jinu grabs him by the wrist. "You don't have to. I'm fine."

Seungyoon smiles. "I insist."

That smile. That sincerity has Jinu yanking his hand away, in fear that he might taint Seungyoon somehow. Jinu ducks his head, blinded by Seungyoon's kindness. Overwhelmed, even.

It makes him believe in humanity again, makes him hope, despite himself, and Jinu really, really hates that.

...

The headline of the newspapers reads 'Another massacre! Are Fox and Grim Reaper the same person?'

Jinu places the newspaper over his face, lying in the chaise lounge in Mama's office on the second floor to get some shut-eye.

...

He's summoned to Mama's office one slow night.

Behind the mahogany table is Mama, wrapped in an Afghan coat to cover her chubby body. She's puffing on her pipe, the smoke curling around her bleached hair when Jinu enters her office.

"Yes, Mama?" Jinu nods once.

She slides a picture across the table. Mama asks, "Have you served him before?"

Jinu takes the picture. It's the exhibitionist bastard. Disgusting. "Yes. Last Tuesday. Why?"

"His body was found on my lawn. Chopped into pieces." She takes a long drag off her pipe. "The camera recorded it sent by the Beast."

Trepidation forms a lump in Jinu's throat. The picture suddenly weighs a tonne in his hand. It can't be. 

"Have you had any contact with the Beast before?"

Jinu shakes his head but stops. He stops because—

The crumpled paper.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fucking fuckity fuck. It can't be, it can't be. It doesn't make any sense.

They didn't talk much. It was a brief conversation. Nothing of great importance. They didn't even say their names.

But why? Why the fuck did he kill that bastard?

Why—

"I'm taking it as a 'yes,'" she says, pulling Jinu out of his jumbled thoughts. "And I believe you've caught his interest somehow. This isn't good news, considering you're one of my best employees. But this case has shaken many. It's put a dent on my business."

He can see where this is going. Jinu can see it, and he hates it. He hates it because this is going to affect his life. His shitty life.

"For the time being, I have to lay you off until I find ways to deal with the Beast. I can't afford to lose more customers because of his obsession with you."

"But I need a job—"

"Rest assured, boy. You won't be jobless." She has this twisted smirk on her chubby face. "You'll be our errand boy, instead."

...fuck.

...

Being an errand boy is difficult. He has to be at everyone's beck and call, whether it's a simple task or not, no mistake allowed.

Compared to his job prior, this one is shittier even though he's now free from perverted touches. Worse, he has lost many privileges as a gigolo. He's no longer permitted to enter the whorehouse where all the sex workers live. No more free meals. No more gifts from his clients.

No more free desserts from Seungyoon's bakery—a real shame. Jinu enjoyed their desserts so much.

And pills, no pills for him.

Jinu tries not to mind about the pills. They're meant to lessen the pain, after all. Without regular sex, Jinu's body is free from pain. He forces himself to take it as a silver lining.

Though, his brain keeps reminding him of those pills.

Dammit, Jinu hates Lee Seunghoon so much. A real pain in the ass, that bastard.

"Have you heard—Song Minho, the Executioner is having a meeting with Mama," one of the girls on break says.

Song Minho, that bastard. Lee Seunghoon's crime partner, who is also a bastard that disrupts his life.

Jinu clenches his fists and asks the girls with a sweet smile, "Where is he now?"

Mama's office. That bastard is in her office. Jinu stomps up the split staircase towards Mama's office. In front of the door to the office, though, Jinu stops, halted by his respect for Mama. It'd be rude of him to barge into her office.

So he waits. Jinu waits and waits and waits until Song Minho emerges from the office.

Song Minho does emerge from the office. With a sword in his hand. Fucking bastard, who does he think he is, carrying a dangerous weapon around like it's no one's business.

After a brief exchange with Song Minho, Jinu discovers that all murderers are nothing but selfish assholes. Sadistic, selfish assholes. Just like Lee Seunghoon.

Jinu wishes he could snatch that sword from Song Minho and stab him with it.

A clack of a door interrupts them. It's Seungyoon, now with red hair, in the arms of the girls. He looks flustered. For some reason, that innocence suits Seungyoon very well.

Jinu can't help the smile. He comes to Seungyoon's rescue, nonetheless.

As soon as Seungyoon calls Song Minho's name with such a cheerful tone like he's happy to see that bastard, Jinu is alarmed.

No, Seungyoon shouldn't know him. Shouldn't say his name with such familiarity. Song Minho is a dangerous man, he's a cold-blooded murderer—

But then, Song Minho storms away. Both Jinu and Seungyoon are rendered speechless.

When Jinu recovers from the surprise, he goes to Seungyoon who keeps staring at the stairs. He places a hand on Seungyoon's back. "Yoon-ah, you know him?"

Seungyoon doesn't say a word.

"Yoon, you should stay away from him," Jinu says, "He's a dangerous man."

"It doesn't matter now, does it," Seungyoon says, with a smile, and Jinu is startled.

Startled because, despite the smile, in those eyes of Seungyoon, hides a glimpse of a shattered heart.

Oh...

...

Fortunately, he finds a cheap place to rent after four days of sleeping in the janitor room.

It's a rundown apartment without a water heater. Jinu's housemate is a weird writer who seems to keep a deep hatred for sunlight. Jinu doesn't push his luck—beggars can't be choosers, anyway. So long as he doesn't bother him, Jinu is willing to tolerate his quirk.

...

One fine day, Jinu feels under the weather since morning.

His body is shivering even though it's hot out. His hands occasionally tremble for no apparent reason. His vision blurs from time to time.

There are whispers around him. Blurry figures. The world seems to be spinning.

Jinu is regaining his sense of balance, hand gripping the bar counter tightly when he's called to a VIP table.

At the table, Jinu finds Mama and a man in an expensive suit. Squared jawline covered in beard, piercing blue eyes, long bleached hair tied into a low braid, knuckles adorned with rings, and lips curled around a cigar—the man has an imposing aura about him.

Even though his brain is foggy, Jinu can see power and wealth oozing from him.

"He's a real beauty, alright," the man says in a thick voice. Then he beckons Jinu to come over. "Come here, boy."

His body moves on its own accord. The man circles an arm around Jinu's waist and pulls Jinu to his lap. The size difference scares Jinu, but he can't voice out his thoughts.

Words feel too heavy on his tongue.

"I should be telling you that the boy is off-limits," Mama says, her fingers cradling her pipe.

"And why is that?"

"Apparently, Lee Seunghoon, the Beast is interested in him."

"Who."

They're talking after that, but Jinu's brain can't digest them. He's shivering, tired and aching. His body demands something. Something that he doesn't know. The man's body is warm against his, and Jinu melts into it.

"Clingy, aren't you?" the man says.

Mama huffs, "Withdrawal symptoms. I'll fix it."

And he's gone.

...

"—more. MORE!!"

The man fucks him harder. The bed creaks under them. The grip around Jinu's throat grows stronger. The state of asphyxia shoots arousal straight to his dick. Jinu wraps his legs around the man's waist tighter, a silent demand for more.

It's confusing. Weird. Jinu should be hating this. Really. He's just an errand boy. He's laid off his old job. He shouldn't be whoring himself out. Not like this.

"Fuck me harder! Make me your personal whore!"

"Slut." is the only warning Jinu gets before the man doubles his effort. Instead of moaning, Jinu laughs.

He laughs like he has no care for this world.

The bitter taste of pills lingers in the back of his throat.

...

The shivering stops.

...

A fine day. It's a fine day where the clients fill most of the tables. It's a fine day where Jinu is hurrying about in his server uniform to send out the drinks.

It was a fine day until Lee Seunghoon barges into the brothel, armed to the teeth, eyes blazing anger.

"Where the FUCK is that fucking pig?!!!" Lee Seunghoon roars. "I'ma chop her into fucking pieces!"

The security guards are quick on their feet, guns aiming at Lee Seunghoon. Lee Seunghoon doesn't even flinch. Barely acknowledges them as he stares ahead at the split staircase.

Though, Jinu can see him squaring his jaw and clenching the handle of his axes even from the bar.

The bartender reaches for the phone on the end side of the bar. Jinu attempts to conceal his doing with his body from Lee Seunghoon's sight. It seems working since Lee Seunghoon is too blinded with rage to focus on everything else.

The bartender whispers, "We need back up at Lotus—"

And the phone is snatched away. By Song Minho, who's sitting on a stool, legs crossed, beside them. With his unsheathed katana. Jinu swallows a lump down. How could he not hear this bastard coming?

"Hello, chief." Song Minho's voice is too cheerful when he talks to the phone. "Why, yes, it's me, the Executioner—yes, yes, sir, there will be a bloodbath here, so I'd like to ask you to bring body bags."

Jinu bites his bottom lip. Song Minho looks him straight in the eye, with a hint of mirth.

"No, it's just my hyung. Yep, hyung against—uh, one, two—ah, six guards. But you plan to join, please bring more body bags," Song Minho says, with a touch of danger in his voice. 

Sharp. Cold. Playful. 

"Because I'm gonna join the fray too," and he ends the call.

The glint in Song Minho's eyes sends chills down Jinu's spine. Jinu averts his gaze away.

"Put down your weapons," the chief warns Lee Seunghoon.

"That pig that you call Mama," Lee Seunghoon grits his teeth. "Call her down here right the FUCK now!!!"

And it's emphasized with a sharp chop of the axe straight into the floor, so loud it startles the chief into firing a shot.

A grave mistake.

All hell breaks loose then.

One moment Lee Seunghoon is standing still, surrounded by the guards, and next, he's throwing his axe at the chief's forehead. The first splash of blood and fallen body prompts the crowd screaming in fear.

Jinu slides under a round table.

Lee Seunghoon isn't fazed by the screaming. Instead, he kicks a table down and hides behind it as soon as the shooting starts.

The sound of raining bullets is deafening. They blast holes into the furniture. Into the walls. Sunlight spills in through the holes. Too bright to see anything. More cries for help can be heard. Some innocent souls are killed in the crossfire. Most are scrambling out of the brothel.

It goes on for almost 10 minutes. 10 minutes that feels too long before the shooting stops. Time to reload. 

Jinu can't find ways to know if Lee Seunghoon was killed.

And Lee Seunghoon emerges from his hiding, with an armful of knives.

Everything happens too fast, then. Before Jinu knows it, two guards have knives embedded in their faces; in the right eye and between the brows.

Lee Seunghoon's movements are smooth, almost watery as he closes the distance and promptly hooks a knife straight into the guard's chin. He pulls it out just to slice another guard across the eyes before he snatches the gun.

He breaks the barrel apart, only to jam them into the guard's neck.

The last guard manages to reload. He fires once, twice, thrice, but Lee Seunghoon dodges every single of them. He twirls his axe out of its sheath tucked on his hip and sweeps the guard's feet with a flick of his leg.

The guard falls. Lee Seunghoon drives his axe into the skull. Blood spurts across his face.

Everything falls into an eerie silence. Six guards. Died in the hand of Lee Seunghoon.

No one dares to make a noise, paralyzed by fear Lee Seunghoon has brought upon them. Jinu's heart is pounding, seized by dread. The round table he's hiding under suddenly feels inadequate.

Lee Seunghoon slowly straightens his body up. He tips up his head, brushing his short fringes away with his bloody hand. A line of red smears across his face. 

"I wanna see that bitch."

No one says a word. Lee Seunghoon sighs. He walks, the pounding of his footfalls sounding like a melody of death, towards one of the girls hiding behind a nearby table and grabs a fistful of her black hair. He pushes the blade against her throat.

"The pig, or this pig," Lee Seunghoon says.

The girl whimpers louder. No answer.

"Alright, then."

"WAIT!" Mama's voice breaks the oppressing silence.

She climbs down the stairs with heavy steps. The fur around her chubby body flutters in the wind. She maintains firm eye contact even though the death threat is standing in front of her in the form of Lee Seunghoon. Unwavering. Imposing. As if she embraces her fate.

"It's an honor to meet you, Lee Seunghoon, the Beast," she greets. Then Mama nods at Song Minho. "You too, Song Minho, the Executioner."

Song Minho smiles, waving. "Hi."

Mama shifts her gaze back to Lee Seunghoon. "I've heard of your infatuation with my precious boy, Jinu. I assume you're here for him."

Lee Seunghoon doesn't say a word.

"That being said, the deal was made between Song Minho and me. I believe you had no right to go on the rampage here. You weren't included in the deal."

"I don't care," Lee Seunghoon says, "You let someone else touch what belongs to me."

"He's never yours to claim."

"I see him. I want him. He's mine." 

Mama stares at him. For a long time as though she's calculating everything. Then she sighs. "I suppose words don't work on you now."

"No, they don't."

"Alright. Will you please let my girl go in exchange for my life?"

Lee Seunghoon releases his hostage. The poor girl scrambles to her feet then trips down over nothing, too scared. Lee Seunghoon pays her no mind, eyes glued to Mama.

Mama spreads her hands. "Mind telling me what part you're going to cut first?"

Lee Seunghoon returns to the dead bodies to retrieve his weapons. He chuckles under his breath.

"Cut? No, no. Not for you. For a bitch like you, I'ma slice you apart. Starting with peroneus brevis." Lee Seunghoon points the axe at Mama. "Left and right, followed with peroneus longus, soleus and tibialis posterior."

Jinu can't understand the words Lee Seunghoon spouted, but he knows it's bad news. He just knows.

"Then we move to your deltoid and trapezius." Lee Seunghoon pivots on his heels and stalks towards Mama, two axes spinning between his fingers.

An alarm blares inside Jinu. No, no, not Mama. Not—

"Did you know tenderloin is the tenderest part of the beef because it does very little work? It sits beneath the ribs, next to the backbone," Lee Seunghoon says. "Human, however, is different. The tongue is considered as the softest muscle since it's the most flexible of all. Weird, isn't it?"

Mama doesn't move even an inch.

"That's not the question, though," Lee Seunghoon grins, eyes gleaming with glee. "The main question is; is your tongue as soft as tenderloin steak?"

And Jinu does something unthinkable. He sprints towards Lee Seunghoon and grabs him by the wrist.

Lee Seunghoon turns to him. Jinu feels his heart stutter into a halt faced with that cold gaze.

He's afraid. He's scared of Lee Seunghoon. This is scary. Frightening. Jinu wants to run away, but he can't. He can't because if he runs away, Mama will die.

So he tries.

"Ple—please, don't hurt Mama. I'll—I will quit this place. I will leave this place. Just—please, not Mama."

Jinu doesn't know if his words reach Lee Seunghoon. Jinu doesn't know what's going in Lee Seunghoon's mind. So he grips a little tighter, in hope Lee Seunghoon understands his desperation. Understands his fear for Mama.

Lee Seunghoon doesn't say a word. Instead, he tucks his axe into its sheath and then places a hand over Jinu's.

His bloody hand feels surprisingly warm against Jinu's cold ones.

Then he pries Jinu's hold on his wrist and—

And Lee Seunghoon leaves.

...

It starts to rain by the time the police arrives. Jinu has long gone from the brothel to escape the police's interrogation. Too much hassle.

Even Song Minho manages to slip away.

He's lost count how many alleys he has turned into, too deep in his thoughts. Long gone the shitty life he's familiar with. Now he has to face this world alone.

"What's with the long face?"

Jinu looks up. It's Song Minho.

"You have no right to ask that after you destroyed my life," Jinu hisses, angered.

The bottled-up frustration is threatening to burst, and seeing the person who's responsible for it doesn't help, either. Jinu would trade anything so long as he could kill that bastard.

Song Minho shrugs. "I didn't do anything."

"FUCK YOU!!!" Jinu explodes. "You waltzed into my life and tore everything apart. You decided for my life because you wanted to, and you killed people because you thought it was fun! You and that motherfucker Lee Seunghoon are fucking murderers! Monsters! You don't deserve to be alive at all!!!"

Silence, the long one that Jinu thinks his words have hit home somehow. 

Then a laugh. Song Minho is laughing. He sounds so cynical that Jinu flinches.

"That's rich coming from a frog in the well like you," Song Minho says before he disappears into shadow.

...

For the first time in Jinu's life, in the pouring rain, he howls his broken heart out.


	3. LSH || The Beast: PT 1

A deviant. A psychopath. A beast. Since young, he's been called many things; none of them is good, and really, he can't blame them. He can't blame them for giving him those horrible names. He can't blame them for fearing him.

No, he can't. Because that's how Lee Seunghoon is.

A monster with an insatiable hunger for tearing his prey apart. Hunger for blood. Hunger for their fear shown in their eyes as they inch closer to the inevitable death.

It's beautiful, really, the way fear seizes them whole when they realize they're on the brink of death.

Fear is a simple emotion. According to biology, it triggers the familiar 'fight or flight' response, characterized by increased heart rate, breathing, and muscle tension, which supposedly allows the individual to escape from danger or defend themselves against a predator.

However, it's another story when their body part is chopped one at a time. The increased heart rate means more blood is pumped through the body. It then leads to severe blood loss; another step closer to impending death.

Often it's a slow process because Seunghoon is no saint, enjoys the torture, and that heightens their fear. Hence, a repeated cycle.

A simple cycle but vicious. Seunghoon loves it.

It's beautiful.

Until.

Until he meets Kim Jinwoo.

Porcelain skin, a pair of huge eyes, a slim body, dainty fingers, long legs—a rose amongst the thorns. An angel amongst the pigs. A diamond trapped in this shithole.

And Seunghoon wants to own him. Wants to make him his. Wants to be his world; his life.

Wants him so bad that Seunghoon is willing to endure the tiring waiting game in the middle of the night for that fucking bitch; the one who claimed to be owning his angel. The one that his angel begged at him to spare her useless life—

—Aha. That's her fucking car. The predatory instincts inside of him awake from a deep slumber. His fingers are twitching around the handle of his axes.

The car zooms past below him. And Seunghoon jumps over the balcony, with a grin on his face.

...

She squeals like a dying pig when Seunghoon cuts into her ligament. Pig is pig, after all.

...

A thudding sound comes from his left side.

"Could you please, hyung, at least, tell me first if you actually wanted to kill Mama?"

Seunghoon looks up. On the roof of the black car sits Mino, crossed legs, with a resigned expression on his face. The look that Mino only wears when he's fucked some shit up and Seunghoon is aware of this.

Though, he can't find in him to be apologetic.

A grin breaks across Seunghoon's face. "I did say I wanted to kill her, though?"

"I thought you'd spare her life after your boytoy—" Mino pauses, frowning. "Nevermind. You did say you'd kill her anyway. Did you at least spare her head?"

"Here." Seunghoon grabs the head by the hair. Blood drizzles down from the sliced neck like a leaking pipe. Some splashes on his military boots, some on the chopped body parts littered on the ground.

The cut isn't clean—unlike Mino's katana, his small axe requires a few swings to pierce through the spine. More force. More strength. The result is often messy. Seunghoon doesn't mind.

There's beauty in it, after all. Like a canvas splashed with blood. An art.

"Put it in this." Mino throws a bag at him. Some rose petals escape through the seam.

Seunghoon arches a brow. "I didn't know this bitch was a target."

"She wasn't. Her death would bite us in the ass one day, considering her close relationship with some people." Mino lights up a cigarette, his face glowed with the small ember in the otherwise dark sky. "So I did some digging."

"Yeah?" Seunghoon shoves the head into the bag. He yanks the zip up. Catches the lifeless eye staring back at him. And grins.

Pig.

"Apparently, she had bad blood with some guys from the West Gate. Might as well give them a nice, free gift, don't you think?" Mino, that sneaky bastard, smirks around the cigarette.

There's a glint in Mino's eyes. The one that Seunghoon knows too well. Mischievousness. Playfulness. And yet, deadly. Seunghoon can't help but mirror that smirk.

Great minds think alike, after all.

...

"Why axes, though?" Bobby asks one day.

Seunghoon hums, watching from the wooden fence as Mino and Hanbin trade packages in the shop. "Because pigs are stupid."

Bobby makes a quizzical look behind the bouquet of sunflowers in his hands. Seunghoon is tempted to chop Bobby's fingers off just to see if his fingers could make a great decoration for the bouquet.

"They always underestimate their capacity to withstand pain," he says instead, arms folded over his chest, scuffing his boot into the ground. "So the threat of inflicting pain triggers fears more damaging than the pain itself."

"The axes trigger fear. The fear causes more damage," Bobby concludes.

"Atta boy~"

...

Now the frog—no, his angel is out of the well, Seunghoon knows where he's going to turn to. The last hope.

Kang Seungyoon.

The bakery turns into a battlefield the moment Seunghoon walks through the door as his angel throws trays and baskets in his direction. One of the trays hits him in the forehead. Ow, that hurts.

"Get the fuck out here, you monster!!! GET LOST—"

Kang Seungyoon loops an arm around Jinu. "Jinwoo-sshi, calm down—uh, sir, could you—no, no, Jinwoo-sshi—could you please leave, sir? I don't want to be rude, but this—Jinwoo-sshi, not that vase!"

Seunghoon doesn't say a word. Takes pity of his beautiful angel struggling in Kang Seungyoon's arms. And walks out of the bakery.

He doesn't leave, though. Instead, Seunghoon lingers in the alley across the bakery. A few minutes later, Kang Seungyoon emerges from the bakery, with a handkerchief in his hand.

"I'm sorry about that. I don't know what makes Jinwoo-sshi so angry. He was fine before," Kang Seungyoon says, offering the handkerchief. "I saw your forehead got hit."

Seunghoon doesn't take the handkerchief. He just stares at Kang Seungyoon. Mino's new favourite, Seunghoon figures out—he matches Mino's explicit descriptions; tall, thick lips, fair skin, and red hair.

"Ugly," he says.

Kang Seungyoon blinks. "Pardon?"

"You're ugly," Seunghoon says, tipping his head to the side. "I don't get it what Mino saw in you."

"Uh," Kang Seungyoon sounds surprised rather than upset. "I'm... sorry for being ugly, I guess? Wait, you know Mino-sshi?"

"We work together."

"Oh, wow, I got to meet Mino-sshi's colleague—wow, this is incredible—" Kang Seungyoon becomes flustered. Red rushes to his face.

Ugly, Seunghoon thinks. Weird, too. Kang Seungyoon looks alive. Too alive; that's weird. Confusing, even. That doesn't suit his ugly look.

"I mean," Kang Seungyoon stammers, "Uhm, may I know your name, sir?"

"Lee Seunghoon."

"Wow, Lee Seunghoon—Seunghoon-sshi. Wow, I'm sorry if I seem too excited—it's just I don't know much about Mino-sshi and—" A loud crash from the bakery brings Kang Seungyoon short. Worried, Kang Seungyoon whips his head around. "Jinwoo-sshi?!"

"Go," Seunghoon says.

"Ah, yes," Kang Seungyoon gives him a deep bow. "I'm sorry for what happened."

"Hey," Seunghoon calls out just before Kang Seungyoon bolts. Kang Seungyoon glances over his shoulder, a brow raised. Seunghoon opens his mouth. Closes it again before deciding to get over it.

Regardless of this strange vibe that Seunghoon picks up on Kang Seungyoon, he's the only person his angel can rely on at the moment. So he says, "Bring him to a doctor."

Kang Seungyoon stares at him. Then beams, "Okay!" and sprints back to the bakery.

...

He pops the left shoulder out of its joint. The pig whimpers in pain under his ministrations. Seunghoon raises his axe up in the air then swings it down—

Blood splatters across Seunghoon's face. He doesn't bat an eye.

"I heard from Seungyoon that you dropped by the bakery the other day." Mino collects the head.

Another swing to tear the rotator cuff tendons off. More whimpers. The blue shirt the pig wears absorbs the blood. "Jinu works there now."

"Does he now?"

"Your new favourite—he's so fucking ugly." Seunghoon turns to him. The pig is snorting out its few last breaths. Another death due to blood loss. "Are you blind? What did you see in him?"

Mino glares dagger at him. "Fuck off, hyung."

...

They're a matching pair, Seunghoon reckons, irregardless of his opinion.

An executioner and... that ugly creature.

...

Seunghoon swings by the bakery again after two weeks.

Instead of having trays flying in his face, he finds his angel hiding under the table in the kitchen. Wrapped in a blanket inspite of the hot weather. Shivering. As pale as a sheet.

Seunghoon crouches down. "Have you seen a doc?"

"Fuck—fuck off." His teeth chatters.

A sigh escapes Seunghoon. He scratches the back of his head, resigned. They ain't making any progress like this.

"I'm sorry," Kang Seungyoon suddenly says from behind. "I did try bringing him to a doctor, but he insisted that he was fine."

Seunghoon looks Kang Seungyoon in the eye. Too silent. No sound. It's strange. His fingers ache for his axe. His predatory instincts kick in, ready to defend, but a whimper from his right side brings his attention back to the table.

His angel, Jinu, is suffering. Seunghoon wishes the bitch was an immortal so he could chop her over and over again.

"Here." Seunghoon tosses a bottle of pills into Kang Seungyoon's palms. "For him. Follow the prescription. Tell me if he gets worse."

"What's this for?"

Seunghoon gets to his feet, eyes fixated on Jinu. "His addiction."

...

His axes are bathed in blood that night.

Blood that belonged to the pigs who supplied the drugs to Lotus.

Mino heaves a sigh behind him.

...

The flying bottle misses Seunghoon's head by a large margin. It lands on the ground two feet away from him. Pills spill out on the road. Seunghoon stares at Jinu.

"I told you to stay away from me, you monster!!!" Jinu screams. "I don't need your fucking help. What do you want from me—you destroyed my life, and now you want to linger around?! What did I do to you that you want to see me suffer so much?! What—"

Jinu drops to the ground, shaking as he hugs himself to seek warmth. Seunghoon tilts his head. The withdrawal symptoms have drained most of his energy, it seems. Weakling.

Their little fight has gathered some unwanted attention around the street. Seunghoon ignores them. His angel needs help, anyway. He sweeps Jinu up into his arms, carrying him bridal-style despite Jinu's weak protest.

Jinu punches him on the chest. "Put me down, you asshole!"

"You're in pain." Seunghoon starts walking.

"Why the fuck would you care if I was in pain or not?!"

Seunghoon looks him in the eye. Firm. Cold. "You're mine. The only pain that I allow you to feel is the one that I inflict myself."

Jinu stares at him. Opens his mouth. Closes it shut. Then wrinkles his nose. "You're sick in the head."

He couldn't agree more.

...

Hanbin greets Seunghoon while Mino inspects the money envelop, "I heard you're playing doctor."

Seunghoon gives him a sideways glance, a hand in his pocket as he flexes an axe with the other. Then he points the weapon at Hanbin. "15 feet."

"What."

"The distance between this axe and you before it embeds deep in your forehead should you not stop probing into my life." Seunghoon grins.

Hanbin stops after that.

...

The third time, Jinu shoves the cookies Kang Seungyoon baked into his mouth.

They're as hard as bricks, barely edible, but Seunghoon finishes them nonetheless. Wasting food isn't a good habit, anyway.

A question, though; why the fuck Kang Seungyoon decided to be a baker when he couldn't bake shit?

...

Mino comes home grinning one evening. Seunghoon pulls the magazine down to his nose and watches from the couch as Mino ambles in.

"Something good happened?"

The grin on Mino's face is persistent. "Yoon kissed me today."

"It was a curse. A kiss of death." Seunghoon returns to his reading.

Mino plops himself down on Seunghoon, with an 'oomph.' He yanks the magazine out of Seunghoon's clutch. Seunghoon glares. Mino grins.

"You're just jealous."

"Don't flaunt your happiness in my miserable face." Seunghoon pokes him in the eye. A pained yelp escapes Mino, eyes scrunching shut, and he falls from the couch.

...Stupid.

...

She screeches even before Seunghoon unsheathes his axe. He rips her throat out just to silence her.

—Ah, she's dead. Seunghoon mourns. What a shame.

...

The hallucinations get worse.

Jinu's world becomes the one where the real effortlessly intermingles with the pretend. Seunghoon finds himself explaining to Jinu that yes, he's a real person and no, there's no swimming pig in the sky as he carries Jinu bridal-style back home.

"But pigs can swim," Jinu says into Seunghoon's neck. His breath is warm on Seunghoon's skin.

"They can't. They have short legs." Seunghoon weighs Jinu in his arms. Jinu feels way too light.

"Short legs? I thought they have long legs and neck."

"You're thinking about giraffes."

"Ah, giraffes." Jinu nods weakly, drunk on the pain the withdrawal symptoms brought upon. "Hey, hey. You know Yoon? Yoon, my baby boy? Shitty baker? Yoon's weird."

"How so."

"Sometimes he's there. Sometimes he's not. Like a ghost." Jinu frowns. "Yoon said it's the hallucination. Janghoon-sunbaenim said Yoon's always been like that, though."

"Ah."

"Do you think it's just a hallucination?"

"I don't know," Seunghoon answers honestly. It's maybe just a part of the hallucinations. He doesn't care. Kang Seungyoon is a weird kid, anyway.

Jinu slides his eyes closed.

Jinu's rundown apartment looms over them. It's like a haunted building at first glance. The sight is horrible; screaming adults, kids running around naked, littered with trash, rats, leaking pipes, mould and poverty.

Disgusting.

Seunghoon goes to the third floor. Jinu's place is the fifth unit, which has a stupid Christmas ornament hanging on the door even though it's late May. Seunghoon kicks the door open.

His kick startles the resident inside—a guy with curly hair, a pair of thick round glasses, a face full of acne and a mug in his hand; Jinu's roommate. It takes the man a moment to recognize him, but once the recognition settles in, he jumps back, his back hitting the wall, the drink splashing out of the mug.

"Be—the beast," he mutters, shaking with fear.

A grin splits Seunghoon's face into two. He tips his head to the side. "Would love to shake hands, but my hands are occupied right now."

The guy's eyes move from his face to Jinu back and forth.

...Right.

"Don't worry, he's still alive," he says, with the same smile. "That being said, though, this angel belongs to me." Seunghoon buries his nose in Jinu's hair just because he can, sharp eyes on the man. "If you touch even a single strand of his hair, I'll make you eat your own intestines. Is that clear, pig?"

A rapid nod of his head. Seunghoon is satisfied with that answer.

"Now, where's his room?"

The room is barely able to fit a single bed. No wardrobe, so the clothes are piled up on a single chair in the corner. There's a stained-glass window on the right. The sunlight filtering in gives unexpected bursts of light to the dark room. When Seunghoon lays Jinu down on the bed, his pale skin is dappled with colourful light.

Green. Purple. Yellow. Blue.

Like a painting. Beautiful. Exquisite, even. So precious. Seunghoon can't help but caress his cheek.

Jinu leans into the touch. His eyes flutter open. He stares. "You gonna go?"

"Yeah." Seunghoon pulls a small smile, reserved only for a beautiful angel like Jinu.

"Don't go."

Seunghoon raises a brow. "Yeah?"

Jinu grabs him by the wrist. His dainty fingers skate across Seunghoon's pulse, leaving a pleasant sensation on Seunghoon's skin in their wake.

"I'm in pain."

A baby, really. Seunghoon huffs a laugh. "That's why I should leave. You need to rest."

Jinu is quiet at first. His gaze shifts away when he asks, "...fuck the pain away? Please? I'll be good. Just for you."

Seunghoon blinks. Then grips Jinu's chin, his nail digging in the skin. Deep. He growls, "You're no longer a whore. You belong to me now. So don't talk like one."

Fear swims in Jinu's eyes. Seunghoon doesn't feel bad about it. Jinu has got to know his place, anyway.

"Sorry," Jinu says, and Seunghoon's anger melts away. A smile returns to Seunghoon's face. He lets go of Jinu's chin and presses his thumb into Jinu's bottom lip to reassure him.

Fuck, his lip does feel soft. Since Seunghoon doesn't care about the concept of consent, he simply dives in for those lips.

Taken aback by the kiss, Jinu gasps against Seunghoon's lips. A switch flicks inside him, taught by his experience at Lotus, and Jinu grabs the side of Seunghoon's face then angles his head for a proper deep kiss.

Glee bubbles up in Seunghoon's chest.

The kiss isn't magical. Nothing is magical about pressing lips together. It's painful, really, full of teeth as their noses keep bumping, but all the discomfort is gone when Seunghoon sweeps his tongue in.

Perfect.

Seunghoon is greedy drinking Jinu's moans. Jinu's hip fits in Seunghoon's palm as if it belongs there. He wedges a thigh between Jinu's legs. No hard-on; Seunghoon isn't surprised—another side-effect of the withdrawal symptoms. He plans to fix that later.

He catches Jinu's bottom lip between his teeth, pulls it back before biting until it bleeds then swallows another moan from Jinu, sloppy and possessive. The taste of copper on Jinu's lip lights up the fire of arousal in his gut, hot, encompassing, dangerous, and Seunghoon wants more, more, more and—

More.

Seunghoon pulls away. Jinu stares, his eyes dark with lust while his breaths puff out from his swollen lips. Seunghoon's hand moves on its own accord, tracing Jinu's jawline as if he needs evidence that Jinu is real.

He is. Real and beautiful. Seunghoon can't help himself, so he says, "Mine."

Jinu catches Seunghoon's fingers and puts two of them into his mouth. His tongue rolls around the digits before Jinu hollows his cheeks, sucking them in. He pulls them out wetly, a string of saliva dripping. The burst of colors from the stained-glass window reveals the depth of need in Jinu's eyes.

Blue. Yellow. Purple. Green.

Black.

The fire of arousal burns hotter in Seunghoon's gut.

"Stay," Jinu says.

...

Seunghoon leaves once Jinu is asleep.

...

Mino's phone chirps. Seunghoon pokes his head out of the kitchen, only to find Mino absence in the living room. The phone ceases vibrating on the table.

"Mino, your phone!"

Mino emerges from the bathroom a second later, with a towel around his neck. He throws himself on the couch, snatching the phone. Seunghoon returns to his cooking; he's in a good mood, so it's steak today.

"For fuck's sake." He hears Mino say.

"What is it." Seunghoon flips the meat. It sizzles deliciously in the frying pan.

"The Fox job."

"Again?"

"Again."

"They're really persistent, aren't they." Seunghoon takes two corns out of the paper bag. "Are you gonna accept it this time?"

"No means no, these dipshits. Please understand the concept of consent," Mino hisses at no one particular.

Seunghoon leans his side against the door, two corns in his hands. He smirks, amused. "That's fucking irony coming from a killer like you."

Mino flashes him the middle finger.

...

The target is a blind girl this time. She is protected by her older brother.

Mino gives them ten seconds to run. Seunghoon doesn't care—he swings his axe at the brother's chest as soon as he steps out of the alley.

She can't see the way her brother is choking on his own blood, but she can hear something is very wrong, so she cries for help.

Mino slices her head clean off her neck. The screaming stops. The brother coughs out more blood. Soon, he's probably going to die drowning in his own blood.

Oh, no. Too quick. Not fun. Seunghoon pulls out his tools, eager to make it more excited and fun.

...

His chance to capture Jinu's heart rolls into his palms in the form of murder.

Mino kicks him awake in the middle of the night and tosses his phone at him, mumbling around a yawn, "Your boytoy," before he disappears back to his own room.

Seunghoon presses the phone to his ear, half face buried in the pillow. "'Ello."

"...I'm scared."

He's up to his feet in that instant second. Cradling the phone on his shoulder, Seunghoon grabs his shirt and jeans. His eyes skim over the clock; it's four in the morning. "What's it."

Jinu's voice is shaky, occasionally broken by sobs and sniffles. "I don't know—help me. This—I'm sorry, it's just—help."

"Where."

"Home—I'm so, so scared, please—"

He storms out of the apartment, with an axe ready in his hold.

...

Seunghoon smells him even before he sees Jinu—no, it's actually the scent of blood. Fresh. Anger rears inside of Seunghoon, his head conjuring a picture of his injured angel. He kicks the door open, his axe raised high in the air, ready to pounce the assailant.

No, no assailant. It's just the living room covered in blood. It's just Jinu sitting on the floor, his legs folded either side of him, all teary and bloody, and a body on the floor, with its face that was destroyed beyond recognition. There are a bloody knife and a phone laying next to Jinu.

Huh.

"I don't know—" Jinu starts to say between broken sobs. "I just—he was there and I—the voice, the figure—moved too fast—I don't know—my hand, knife—"

Rushed breathing, garbled speech; signs of a panic attack. Seunghoon goes to Jinu's side, an arm curling around Jinu's waist to pull Jinu away from the dead body. His axe falls uselessly on the floor.

"Breathe," he says. Jinu breaks into a loud cry. Seunghoon cradles him up and carries Jinu into the bathroom. Jinu's sobs don't stop.

The bathroom only has a shower head and a bucket in its corner. Seunghoon puts Jinu down on the mosaic tiles then blasts cold water over Jinu. Some splashes onto Seunghoon.

The coldness stops Jinu's sobs. His teeth chatter instead, and Jinu curls himself up, his face tucked on his knees. Red liquid flows into the crevices in the tiles. Seunghoon forcefully tears Jinu's bloody clothes away, examining his body as he does.

No wound. So the blood doesn't belong to Jinu. Well. Seunghoon scrubs the blood off Jinu's body, barely acknowledging the skin display in front of him that he's been lusting over in the wake of urgency.

Once he finds no trace of blood on Jinu, Seunghoon drags him, buck naked, out of the bathroom. Droplets of water trail behind them as they're headed to Jinu's bedroom. Jinu ducks his head when they cross the dead body in the living room.

"Sit," Seunghoon tells him, pointing to the bed. Clothes are next. He paws through a pile of clothes on the chair in the corner and finds a sweater and sweatpants for Jinu to wear. Seunghoon throws the clothes to him, saying, "Wear these. Stay here. Don't come out until I come and get you," before he leaves the room.

Back in the living room, Seunghoon stares at the dead body, his hands akimbo. The face is utterly destroyed. Some wounds can be seen near the throat and collarbone. Seunghoon rolls his shoulder; time to get rid of the evidence.

Whistling under his breath, Seunghoon looks for available tools in the kitchen. He finds a pair of scissors to cut the muscles and the presumably murdering weapon, the knife to slice the flesh. There's no saw around to cut the bone, but a hammer should be able to do the job just fine.

Then, it's working time.

There's no joy in cutting a dead body, so Seunghoon makes a quick, sloppy job of it. His hands swiftly trade from one tool to another, not even flinching away when blood spurts out of the artery across the side of his face.

It takes him three hours to finish chopping off the body. Seunghoon shoves the parts into a trash bag. No time to get rid of any chance for identification—too much hassle. He doesn't care if they manage to identify the body, either.

Seunghoon goes back to Jinu's room. The stained-glass window faces the west side, so the room doesn't get much sunlight in the early morning. On the bed, Jinu remains unmoving, staring into space.

"Let's go," he says. Jinu doesn't move. With a sigh, Seunghoon guides Jinu out of the room, out of the apartment.

Out of this shitty life.

...

Seunghoon drops the trash bag on the steps of the police station.

...

"He'll be living with me from now on," Seunghoon tells Mino. Jinu is asleep—or staring at the wall, Seunghoon doesn't know—in his room.

Mino continues scrolling down the mail on the couch, his legs resting on the coffee table. "Okay," he says.

Cool.

...

Jinu remains in the state of a daze for days. His thin body trembles even though he's wrapped in a thick blanket. His cheeks hollow. His skin becomes pale. Seunghoon just watches as Jinu struggles to differentiate between the real world and the pretend.

Seunghoon gets him a stronger medicine to combat the symptoms. Jinu doesn't take them.

...

A police officer, Inspector Lee knocks on the door one afternoon. His eyes are sharp and cold, his lips are pressed together in a thin line; an image of the unshakable officer. He says in a firm voice, "I know you killed Sakamoto Musashi."

Ah, Jinu's roommate. Seunghoon scratches at his stomach, yawning out, "Warrant?"

Inspector Lee doesn't say a word.

"No warrant, no talk," and Seunghoon slams the door closed in Inspector Lee's face.

...

Two weeks after Jinu came to their apartment, Kang Seungyoon bursts through the door, shouting in a worried tone, "Jinwoo-sshi!"

Mino, hands shoved in his pockets, trails behind a second later.

Seunghoon gives Kang Seungyoon a quick glance then points at his room. "Room. Resting."

"Thank you," then Kang Seungyoon adds, "Ah, I'm sorry for intruding," before he goes to the room.

A pregnant pause in the living room. Then Seunghoon says, "I don't remember giving you permission to bring anyone here to see Jinu."

Mino is unfazed. He drops his ass on the couch, one leg folded over on the other. "Yoon's been worried sick about your boytoy. Be glad he has someone worrying about his sorry ass."

Another silence. Seunghoon studies Kang Seungyoon from the living room. While Jinu stays curled up in the blanket on the bed, Kang Seungyoon is perched on the floor by the bed, his hand holding Jinu's. He's whispering something to Jinu.

A vain attempt, Seunghoon thinks. He'd been doing that for days and was disappointed every time.

Then.

A flicker of life. In Jinu's blank eyes. Life settles in Jinu's eyes. It's like watching a soul breathed into a lifeless body, and Jinu scrunches up his face, his hand gripping Kang Seungyoon's hold just as tight before his face is blocked by Kang Seungyoon's body from Seunghoon's view, and promptly—

Promptly bursts into tears.

Huh.

Seunghoon joins Mino on the couch. Since the couch is facing the room, Mino can watch everything. Mino picks at his nails. "Yoon's something."

Seunghoon runs his tongue over his top teeth. Rubs at his chin. Feels the stubbles. Recalls Jinu's words. Remembers the weird vibes he picked up on Kang Seungyoon. And agrees, "He's really something."

Kang Seungyoon doesn't leave Jinu's side even after Jinu finished sobbing his heart out.

...

Seunghoon observes Mino and Kang Seungyoon over dinner.

He catches a quirk of Mino's lips. It's small, just a ghost of a smile, and it happens in brief seconds, but it looks genuine, exists only on a rare occasion. When Mino listens to Kang Seungyoon talk, his sharp gaze turns soft around the edges, in a way that Seunghoon never sees, and yet feels awfully familiar.

Seunghoon takes a mouthful of fried rice. Sap, he thinks, rolling his eyes.

...

"I heard that," Jinu says from the bed one night, when Seunghoon thinks talking is an impossible task for Jinu, "You killed Mama."

Seunghoon pulls his shirt down from his chest. He rolls his shoulder comfortably. The ache from the previous job makes itself known again. Seunghoon winces.

"Yeah," he admits since lies serve nothing good now.

"Why?"

"Why not." Seunghoon climbs into the bed. It dips beneath his weight. Seunghoon settles next to Jinu then pulls Jinu atop him so he can share some warmth Jinu desperately needs.

"She was kind to me. She picked me up from the street—she, Mama raised me—"

"She'd been drugging you."

At that, Jinu is silent. Seunghoon folds his arms behind his head, eyes ahead at the spinning fan on the ceiling. He can feel Jinu's breath, the slightest breeze on his neck. With a finger, Seunghoon sweeps the hairs that fall across Jinu's face behind his ear.

"That's—impossible," Jinu denies.

"The pills she'd been giving you—they weren't painkillers. They were drugs. Meant to keep you chained to her forever. Since the dosage was small, you'd only be feeling the withdrawal after a few weeks."

A sharp suck of breath. Jinu shifts and then tries to push himself up into a sitting position but fails as he falls back on Seunghoon's chest. "It can't be—she wouldn't do that to me—not like that—she promised me that she would give me freedom if I—"

"You've been suffering from the withdrawal symptoms for almost two months now."

Silence. A very long one that Seunghoon thinks Jinu has fainted with eyes open. Then a chuckle. Broken laughter, filled with lost soul. As if Jinu has lost his mind.

"I don't get it," Jinu laughs that broken laughter. "I don't fucking get it—which one is real now? Which one is the pretend? Had she been pretending this entire time? Had she—"

"I'm real," Seunghoon says. "My feelings too. They're real."

Jinu scoffs, staring into Seunghoon's eyes intently. "What feelings? Don't you dare think I didn't know you were just after my body. You're no different from those pigs I served."

"I know that you know that. And it's true, too. I adore you just because of your body." Then Seunghoon smirks, "Don't flatter yourself. Nothing is special about your whorish personality."

Jinu furrows his brow. He mutters, "You're an asshole," then rests his head on Seunghoon's chest; the end of the conversation.

Well, Seunghoon hums quietly, better than tears, anyway.

...

Jinu starts to take the med after that.

...

Mino disappears. Seunghoon pays no mind. There are times where Mino and Seunghoon work separately, after all. Separate service. Separate payment. So long as their target isn't each other, Seunghoon doesn't care.

On the fourth day, a note is left for him on the coffee table. It reads, 'Malakeith old warehouse' and nothing more. Seunghoon recognizes the handwriting; it's Mino's.

Seunghoon crumples the note in his pocket, leaves the meds on the bedside table for Jinu and goes out.

There are four persons waiting for him at the warehouse—no, Seunghoon corrects himself upon seeing the situation with his own eyes. Two persons, actually. One of them is Mino, his back to Seunghoon as he clutches his bloody katana while the other is tied in a chair, with a paper bag covering his face.

The other two are already headless, blood starting to dry on their shirts. Seunghoon feels his boot hit something. He looks down at the bloody floor. Dead eyes stare back at him. Huh.

He kicks the head away. The head rolls away like a ball.

"Answer," Mino demands. Seunghoon is pretty sure that isn't meant for him. So he watches, his hands folded over his chest as Mino circles around his captive.

"Squad—" the man says. Fear is audible in his shaky voice. The chain around him clinks loudly against the chair when he struggles against the restraint. "The boss hired a squad—the Death Squad from the North-East Gate. From Zone Zero. They—they are expected to arrive in two days—please, please, don't kill me—I know nothing—I just—"

Mino throws his head back, humming. A heavy sigh slips past his lips. Then, "Hyung, trade."

At that, the man shrieks louder. Seunghoon raises a brow. Mino turns to him and presents him his sword. Seunghoon alternates his gaze between Mino's face and the weapon. Mino remains impassive.

Though, there's an unmistakable fire of fury in Mino's cold gaze; the one that only burns when Mino is in a pinch. When he is pushed into a corner.

Something major has happened.

Ah. Right. Seunghoon trades his axe for Mino's sword. The sword feels heavy in Seunghoon's hold.

Mino goes behind the captive. The man must have felt Mino's presence behind him because now he's screaming out his lungs, begging for his life. Like a pig waiting to be slaughtered.

The axe is raised in the air, and Mino swings it down. Not too strong to slice the flesh off but just enough to smash the cervical vertebra. Blood paints the side of Mino's face and hair.

What a cruel day to die. The technique just intends to cut off the airway, causing the victim to suffocate while drowning in their own blood. Inside their brain, the nerve system is conjuring unimaginable pain, as though the body has just been crushed by something.

The pig screams.

Seunghoon grins as the pig chokes on his own blood, squirming in his bonds. Great entertainment. Because Seunghoon is a real sadist, he claps merrily, an acknowledgement for a great show.

"A great show. What are we celebrating?" Seunghoon asks, enjoying the agonized sound.

Mino pivots on his heel, unbothered. He doesn't meet Seunghoon's eyes. "I accepted the Fox job."

Seunghoon blinks. "Oh. Why?"

Quiet. Seunghoon notices the glint in Mino's eyes dimming, replaced by icy fury. There's an aura about Mino that screams anger and betrayal. Cold and deadly. A challenge to Seunghoon's predatory instincts even though Mino hasn't said a word. Seunghoon's fingers twitch for another axe tucked in his hip, ready to fight.

Then Mino says, "It's either that bastard's head or Seungyoon's head now."

…Aw. Shit.


	4. SMH || The Executioner : PT 2

—head.

Seungyoon.

In danger.

And Mino pushes the door open, eyes roaming the bakery. Air leaves him in rush. Adrenaline courses through him, quick and dizzying. His heart thumps in his chest. His hand feels clammy around the handle of his katana.

Seungyoon ambles from the kitchen with a box of flowers. A smile blooms on his face. "Oh, hi, Mino-sshi—"

Mino grabs him by the wrist. The box falls on the floor, with a thud. Pink flowers—snapdragon, Mino thinks in passing—spill out of the box. The petal crush underneath his shoes.

"The flowers, no! Bobby-sshi just sent them today—Mino-sshi?!"

He doesn't give a fuck about crushed flowers or the bakery. Not when Seungyoon's life is in danger. Mino tugs at Seungyoon's hand, firm that it brooks no argument. "Let's go."

"Where to—"

Mino drags Seungyoon out of the bakery.

...

Cranberry  red paints the sky, with a touch of  purple as the sun descends low on the horizon. Stars begin to unveil behind the thin clouds. Beautiful. Like a painting.

Mino could've admired the beauty if he wasn't so busy looking for safe routes in the complicated maze of this shitty city.

"Mino-sshi?"

Seungyoon's shaky voice has Mino glancing over his shoulder. Behind him, cast with evening light, Seungyoon looks worried, a frown clear on his face as he fiddles with his own fingers.

"What's happening?" Seungyoon asks. "Why are we running around? Why are you so quiet?"

A sigh escapes Mino. He supposes he can understand Seungyoon's apprehension. With a hand, Mino cups Seungyoon's right cheek and rubs his thumb on the smooth skin. Seungyoon leans into the touch, holding into Mino's wrist.

The pressure of Seungyoon's thumb on his racing pulse convinces Mino that Seungyoon is indeed here with him, safe and sound.

"Do you trust me?" Mino asks.

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Mino-sshi, you're scaring me."

"Seungyoon—"

A glint.

A glint of light curls around Seungyoon's neck, loose and faint, but it's there. Like a wire—

And Mino pushes Seungyoon down in the nick of time. Just right before the wire is yanked into a thin line, with a swift sound of 'whip,' so quick and efficient that it was meant to cut something off.

—to cut Seungyoon's head off.

Mino's heart thunders louder in his chest.

"Good reflex."

Mino's eyes quickly locate the source of the nasal voice. On his 10 o'clock, on the rooftop of a half-and-one storey building is a masked man, clad in a suit.

The full moon looms behind him. The moonlight outlines his slim figure. Like an angel of death, with a smiley mask.

The leader of the Death Squad. Fucking, fuckity, fuck.

"Who's—" Seungyoon starts to ask.

Mino urges Seungyoon up to his feet. "Up, up, up—"

A knife whizzes by Mino's left shoulder from behind. It grazes his skin. Mino hisses in pain but never slows down his pace. He keeps pushing Seungyoon forward despite the pain.

They round countless corners. Climb many stairs. Water splashes onto their shoes when they step on a dirty puddle. A black cat slinks into the darkness.

Mino can't see anyone within the vicinity, but he knows the bastard is tailing them. The sound of broken concrete roofs is a dead giveaway. The problem is he can't figure out why the bastard hasn't made a move.

Fuck it.

He spots a bin tucked beneath the steel stairs on the back of an apartment. Mino leads Seungyoon towards it, uncaring about the overpowering stench of spoiled food, and makes Seungyoon hide behind it.

"Stay here. Don't make a noise," Mino orders.

Seungyoon scrabbles for Mino's wrist, panic flooding his tone. "Mino-sshi, Mino-sshi, Mino-sshi, please, don't—"

"Don't move till I come back," Mino says and leaves.

With his katana ready in his clutch, Mino sprints up the stairs. His footsteps echo in the night air. At the top of the stairs is a balcony, about 15 feet away from the rail. He heaves a sigh, calculating.

He's not a parkour expert, but 15 feet should be doable.

So leap Mino does.

He catches onto the balcony rail. Gravity tugs his body down hanging. Mino pulls himself up and swings into the balcony.

From the balcony, Mino climbs up the roof. He leaps to another rooftop in the opposite direction. No sight of the masked man. Mino tries his luck on another building; an ugly roof garden.

A flowerpot flies in his direction as soon as he lands, pitched by the wires.

On instincts, Mino cuts the flowerpot, only to have a bonsai tree coming in his way.

—the fu—

The tree hits his hand in Mino's attempt to block it. It fucking stings. And the man hasn't done yet.

Good reflex has Mino ducking from another flying pot aimed at the side of his face. He steadies his balance with his leg foot at the back then targets the blade at the masked man.

The man pulls the wires, firm enough to repel Mino's attack. His sword ends up tangled in wires. The man flicks his wrist and—

—shit.

Before Mino knows it, he's yanked to a wall. The hard impact knocks a breath out of him. His vision blurs. Mino barely has time to stop a wooden stack from embedding in his shoulder and thrusts his katana up in retaliation, but the masked man jumps back in time.

"Slow."

Coppery taste floods his tongue. Mino might have bitten his inner cheek during the impact. Shit fuck, it stings. He spits out the blood and smirks. "Might wanna take that back, shithead."

And points at the clean scratch across the white mask. Not too deep but visible nonetheless.

The man trails his gloved finger on the scratch. He hums, "Impressive."

"Impressive enough to toy with our lives?" Mino asks, pushing himself to his feet with a Herculean effort. Fuck, his back hurts like a bitch.

The masked man doesn't say a word. Nor make a move.

"What's your aim?" Mino probes. The wind is stronger on the rooftop. Chills run down his spine, but he knows it has nothing to do with the wind.

A sound of a machine comes from the man as he slots the wires back into his right sleeve—hah, a James Bond trick. Mino isn't surprised.

"Those wires—they're meant for cramped space, but you never attacked us in the alleyway. You waited until I came here, away from Yoon. And you didn't aim for fatal points, either," Mino speculates. "You're sending us mixed signals here, darling."

"This is just a warning," the masked man answers, fixing his sleeve button. Mino sees a smiley tattoo sitting near the thumb. "The client wants you to know that this is a serious business. That you know who will be coming after your lover's head should you fail the mission."

"Yeah? Really?" A laugh sneaks past Mino's lips. His fingers curl tight around the handle of his sword, "How about I send your head to the client so they know no one can FUCKING boss me around?!" and Mino lunges at the masked man.

The man doesn't move. Instead, he says, "Watch your back."

—what.

Just as Mino whips his head around, he feels pain bloom across his left abdomen. Slow at first, like in slow motion, before it suddenly flares up, and Mino looks down, only to see his white undershirt stained with blood.

When the actual fuck—

And a strong punch on the bleeding wound while he's distracted intensifies the pain tenfold, and Mino screams in agony, doubling over from the force of it. His katana falls uselessly next to his foot.

—pain, pain, pain, so much _pain_ —

His body curls up, a hand clapping over the bleeding wound in response to the pain. His chest feels constricted all of a sudden. Too tight. Too painful. Mino feels so out of breath. He risks a deeper breath, but the pain erupts again, and Mino coughs out some blood.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The man approaches with steady strides. Mino hears him more than sees him. Through the pain-induced confusion, he turns on his stomach, half mindful of his bleeding wound, and scrambles for his katana. The man steps on his wandering hand, and Mino groans out in pain.

He crouches down next to Mino. The pressure on his wrist grows stronger as the man shifts his weight. Mino grumbles out his pain.

"Don't worry. I told TOP-hyung not to aim for vital organs, so you'll be fine."

The blood keeps flowing between Mino's fingers on his abdomen. He scoffs between the ragged breaths, "How is that supposed to be reassuring me, you fucking dirty bastard?"

"Pain makes you grumpy. I understand." The man tips his head to the side. From this angle, the side of the smiley mask is suffused with the soft moonlight.

Mino hates it. It's like the Death angel is smiling at him.

"One month." The man shows his index finger. "We will give you one month to complete this mission. If our client hasn't received Fox's head by then, we'll send your lover's head on your doorstep in his stead."

Fury consumes Mino at the mental image; eyes closed as if he was sleeping while his neck was caked in dried blood. Mino growls. No, not Seungyoon.

"In a bag. Adorned white roses."

Mino glares in spite of the pain. His hand clenches into a fist beneath the man's shoe. "Don't you fucking touch Yoon, or I'll fucking kill you and our goddamned client myself."

"One month, Song Minho. One month." The man gets to his feet. "We'll always be watching you."

Mino grabs his katana the moment his hand is free. More blood coughs out of him. He watches the masked man walk away through hooded eyes, black dots encroaching his vision at the edge.

Ah. Fuck.

"A friendly reminder." The man pauses in his track, pivoting on his heel. His dark figure is bathed in the moonlight, and Mino can see the colour of his suit for the first time; it's  burgundy .

Like wine. Like blood.

"Grim Reaper will be your downfall."

And the masked man disappears into the night.

...

"—Mino-sshi, you're bleeding—oh, no, no, no, no—what happened—stay with me, stay—"

Mino collapses in Seungyoon's arms.

...

His days pass in a blur. Everything is too hot. Too painful. Too uncomfortable. It feels like he's stuck in a limbo of suffering.

A hand captures his flailing arm. Mino turns his head, but he can't see shit.

"—it's okay, Mino-sshi. You'll be fine. Just stay with me—"

Mino holds on to that voice.

...

Mino wakes up with a start, and the pain flares. His hand immediately cups over his abdomen, finding a bandage there. Memory flashes across his mind.

—masked man, a sneaky sniper bastard, Seungyoon—

Seungyoon!

A hand on his shoulder stops Mino from sitting up. Mino looks up, confused. _Afraid._ His beating heart is loud in his ears.

Seunghoon stares down at him, saying, "Easy, tiger. Easy."

Mino closes his fingers around Seunghoon's wrist. "Seungyoon? He—" His voice is rough from disuse.

"He's safe. Sleeping on the couch."

All tension leaves Mino. He sags back on the bed, a hand slapping over the side of his face. A sigh of relief escapes him. Mino takes in his surroundings; a single bed, his katana resting on the bedside, a poster of a half-naked woman on the wall, surrounded by sketches of monsters and skulls.

He's in the safety of his own room. That's a real relief.

Seunghoon sits at the foot of the bed. The bed creaks beneath his weight. Seunghoon offers him a glass of water. "You were out for four days," he supplies.

"Really?"

"Scared the hell outta your boytoy. Thank fuck Jinu was around to calm him down."

Mino can imagine the panic on Seungyoon's face. His heart flutters a little. A sharp sting reminds him of the wound. Mino passes the glass back to Seunghoon. "The wound, was it bad?"

"Nope. A clean wound. Missed your liver by an inch. Hayi had an easy time stitching you up. Whoever did this to you knows what they were doing."

"It was the Death Squad." Mino looks away at the window. The curtain billows in the breeze. It's bright out. His eyes sting a little at the brightness. "Apparently, it was just a warning. My client hired them to make sure I do the Fox job properly."

"I guess you got the message crystal clear now." Seunghoon's left cheek is kicked up into a playful grin as he wriggles his brows at the bandage pointedly.

"No shit, man."

"You should've told me first if you wanted to run away from this shithole with your boytoy," Seunghoon says, his voice firm. "Gotta make sure you didn't end up eloping with him. Your boytoy can't bake for shit. How are you gonna feed yourselves?"

It was a joke, but Mino knows better. Skepticism and insults are norms in their relationship, but they always have each other's back.

"Could've told you if you had a phone," Mino jabs none too subtly.

"A note would work. Pigeons, too. Or owls if you're into Harry Potter shit." Seunghoon copies Mino's shit-eating grin. "Hufflepuff baby."

"I'm a Gryffindor through and through, dipshit. Or Slytherin—'cause I'm charming as fuck."

"Those painkillers make you delusional." Then Seunghoon pats Mino's right foot. "Get some rest. Holler up with you need something. I'll be outside."

"Yeah," Mino agrees. The pain in his abdomen has dulled, thanks to the painkillers, but the lingering throbbing is still there. He sniffs. Then he calls Seunghoon out at the door. "Hyung, can you call Seungyoon in?"

Seunghoon is quiet for a moment, calculating. Then, "Sure."

Seungyoon bursts in a minute later, his face swollen from sleeping. His red hair is messed up, sticking out in various directions, and revealing a small part of his wide forehead. Seungyoon freezes in the doorway, hand on the knob, wide-eyed.

Mino offers him a small smirk. "Hey, baby."

"Mino-sshi!" Seungyoon shouts, rushing to the side of the bed and taking Mino's stretched out hand. He kneels down on the floor and envelops Mino's hand in his warm ones. "I was so worried—you weren't waking up, and—and you were blabbering nonsense, and I—"

"Breathe, baby." Mino smoothes out Seungyoon's bed hair with his free hand. "You're freaking out. Breathe."

Seungyoon takes in a stuttering breath. Mino continues hushing him down. Seungyoon rests his forehead on Mino's hand in his hold, eyes sliding shut. His breath is warm on Mino's pulse.

"That's it, baby. You're doing a good job." Mino runs his fingers behind Seungyoon's ear shell.

It takes Seungyoon a quiet moment to calm down. When Seungyoon snaps open his eyes again, Mino is immediately sucked into the depth of Seungyoon's dark eyes. Dark brown bordering on black; like a black hole.

"Baby, I'm sorry," Mino says, pressing his thumb into Seungyoon's dark circle under his eye. "I'm sorry for putting you in danger—"

"Not now," Seungyoon interrupts. Softly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Not now." Seungyoon shakes his head. "Just—can I hold you?"

"You're holding my hand."

"Yeah, but hold— _hold_."

And Mino gets it. Gets the request. Gets Seungyoon's desperation. So he scoots away. "Yeah—" he wets his dry lips. "—lemme just—"

The bed is small. It's barely enough to accommodate an adult, never mind two tall men.

And yet, they make do as Seungyoon drapes himself over the half of Mino's body, mindful of the wound, his face tucked in Mino's racing pulse. Mino loops an arm around Seungyoon, his chin in Seungyoon's hair, feeling the way their breathing unmatches each other, not in sync.

Silence conquers the room. The tension is palpable. Mino stares at the spinning fan on the ceiling. An uncomfortable feeling nags in his chest. "Yoon—"

"Sleep," Seungyoon says.

Mino sleeps.

...

A week after Mino regained his consciousness, he requests a meeting with his informants. Hanbin and Bobby come with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of stargazers.

Mino accepts the bottle. The bouquet ends up in the trash bin.

"I'm not dead yet, asshole," Mino smirks. Hanbin tosses a smirk back.

They gather in the living room; Hanbin and Bobby are on the couch while Mino is sitting on the coffee table. Seunghoon makes himself comfortable across the room, leaning against the wall, with his arms folded over his chest.

"Fox and Grim Reaper," Mino says.

Hanbin instantly gets into business. "No personal info since he's sneaky as fuck. Prefers to stay away from fights, but his combat skills are no joke. His hunting knives are modified for close combat—with finger holes on the handles for better grip. There's no way for you to knock his weapon out of his grip unless you cut all his fingers off. He has a group too, but they're staying low most of the time."

"And Grim Reaper?" Mino asks once he absorbed all the information. "What made him murder all the hitmen hired to kill Fox? What makes Fox so special that he protects him? They seem way too close if I interpret this right."

"Rumour has it Grim Reaper was from the White Walls Project," Bobby speaks for the very first time that evening. He has a grim expression on his face.

As if it's a taboo subject.

In his defense, yes, it is. Even among the hitmen. No one talks about the White Walls Project.

"What's the White Walls Project?" Seunghoon asks from behind Mino, clueless.

"About 20 years ago, the South Gate began another secret project after the failure of the Wretched Egg Project in the Southern-West Gate," Mino supplies. "From what I heard, the Wretched Egg Project failed because their rat labs massacred their handlers due to the absence of emotions to make a wise decision."

"And?" Seunghoon presses.

Bobby continues, "In response to that failure, they decided to begin an experiment where some conscience was spared in their rat labs, and the key was programmed to link it with another subject called the Contractor. Long story short, without a Contractor, the rat lab was nothing more than a killing machine."

"It was wired in the rat labs to protect their Contractor at any cost," Hanbin continues. "Therefore, we believe that Fox is Grim Reaper's Contractor. That's why all the hitmen I'd hired ended up getting killed by him."

"Basically, he protected Fox so he could function like a proper human," Seunghoon concludes. Hanbin nods affirmed.

Mino rubs his throbbing forehead. "If your story checked out, then we'd have a big problem. We would have to fight a brainwashed killer, with no chance of turning him against Fox."

"Talking about shit hitting the fan," Seunghoon smirks, amusement clear in his tone.

Mino hums, thinking. A plan formulates in his mind. Then he looks Hanbin in the eye. "Have had thought of coming back to business?"

"Business, you mean, as in killing people?" Hanbin raises a brow. He exchanges a look with Bobby, then scoffs, "We're happy living like this—"

"Not gonna happen. I need help from you two as well. I'll pay you double and won't take no for an answer," Mino interrupts.

Hanbin sighs, eyes down on the wine glass in his hand, resigned to his fate while Bobby has glitters of excitement in his eyes.

Seunghoon crosses the room towards the table and rests his elbow on Mino's shoulder. "We're gonna need to come up with a plan, then. This motherfucker is slippery as fuck."

"About that, I have a plan," Mino says.

"Spill," Seunghoon tells him.

"Hanbin will cover a large perimeter—you're better at sniping, anyway." Mino starts to lay out his plan. "And Bobby, since you're a bomber, you're in charge of destroying any possible escape routes while me and hyung—"

"Uuuuuhh."

A familiar voice has them turning their heads around, only to see Seungyoon in the doorway, a surprised expression evident on his face. Behind him is Jinu, with a look that clearly says, 'Yikes.'

Mino's heart dives.

"Hanbin-sshi and Bobby-sshi too—" Seungyoon sucks in an audible breath between his teeth then nods, disbelief swimming in his eyes. "—Wow, okay, this—I'm sorry for interrupting," and leaves, bumping shoulders with Jinu as he sprints away.

Mino runs after him.

...

He doesn't know how long he's been running. For a baker, Seungyoon is fast; Mino barely sees the blur of him before he disappears into an alley. All he knows is that he's long passed their street and is now nearing the main gate of this shitty town.

His wound throbs like a bitch. Mino just realizes he's been running barefoot when he steps on a small pebble—stupid stone showing up out of nowhere.

A throbbing wound on his stomach and rough scratches on the palm of his feet. Mino winces. What a shitty situation.

Exhausted, Mino slows down. He clutches the bandaged side, tight, not trusting the stitches won't rip apart after the running. The pain heightens. Mino crouches down. Beads of sweat skate down the side of his head.

"You okay?"

Mino looks up. Seungyoon stares down at him. The sunset behind Seungyoon casts a shadow on his face. It darkens the disappointment expression on his face. A bunch of crows caws in the red sky, loud and annoying. A tom cat on the square gives him the stink-eye.

As though the whole universe is teaming up with Seungyoon to guilt trip him. Mino swallows thickly.

"I'm sorry," is the first time that comes out of Mino's lips.

Seungyoon remains quiet.

"I'm sorry," Mino tries again, "I'm sorry that you had to see that. Hanbin and Bobby—they're good guys, I promise. They won't hurt you."

Seungyoon looks away. Mino is in despair.

"It's not—" Seungyoon says, at last, choking up on his own words after a breathless moment, when Mino thinks it's beyond forgiveness. Eyes down, Seungyoon fiddles with his own fingers. "It's just—you never tell me about yourself. Not even once."

"I want to protect you."

"Last Friday night still happened."

"Point." Mino can't deny that, but he still tries to reason out, "Look, Yoon. I'm a dangerous person. You'll be in danger if you know too much. It's too risky. And I don't want you in danger because of me."

"And yet you never leave me alone," Seungyoon argues. "If you knew there would be risks involved, why you never left in the first place? Why were you hanging out with me? Why did you accept my confession if loving you was a risk itself?"

Every question is a stab to Mino's heart. Seungyoon is right. He knows he should've left the moment he heard the confession from Seungyoon. He knows he should've stayed away.

But.

He can't.

He's too fucking deep in this shit. Mino doesn't even remember when he's stopped thinking about tearing Seungyoon's head off.

So he tries. He tries even though he's aware that he's being cruel.

Mino reaches out to Seungyoon's fingertips, cautiously, tentatively, afraid if he's being too forward. Seungyoon doesn't shy away, so Mino takes Seungyoon's finger—his index finger—and holds tight.

"I want you," Mino confesses.

It's fascinating to see Seungyoon's face going through a wide range of expressions; from taken aback to touched before it morphs into frustration. Seungyoon puts his face in his other palm, sniffling.

"You're selfish," Seungyoon says into his palm.

"I know." Mino agrees, not releasing Seungyoon's finger. He pushes himself up to his feet, with difficulty.

"Selfish. Greedy. Cruel. Sneaky."

"I know."

"I hate you."

"I still want you, though."

Finally, Seungyoon lifts his head. He sniffles. His nose is red as he wipes it with his sleeve. Mino's heart clenches.

"Is there—is there anything that you can tell about yourself, though?" Seungyoon asks. "I just—anything, please? Even something stupid."

A chance of redeeming himself. And hell if Mino didn't take it. So he blurts out, "I'm afraid of chickens."

"Chickens?" Seungyoon blinks.

"Yes, chickens," Mino confirms. He steels himself to link their hands together.

"Chickens." Seungyoon doesn't sound convinced. Nor he pulls away from Mino's hand—that's good news.

Mino feels his chest lighter at a sign of acceptance. He had no idea he'd enjoy Seungyoon's warm hand so much. A smile blossoms unbidden on his face as Mino entwines their hands properly.

"Yes, chickens, the most terrifying creatures."

"Enlighten me."

And Mino spends the whole walking back home trying to convince Seungyoon the fear chickens could evoke in humans, hand in hand. It's stupid, but it makes Seungyoon smile, and Mino takes whatever he can get.

...

It's Tuesday afternoon, and Mino is going through the port blueprint for the seventh time on the bed when Seungyoon bursts into his room, his face red behind the paper bag.

"What." Mino raises a brow.

"Uhm." Seungyoon doesn't remove his face from the paper bag. "Seunghoon-sshi and Jinwoo-sshi—uhm, they—in the living room."

"What."

"—kiss and—"

Mino frowns. After Seungyoon moved in last week for safety purposes, Mino figures Seungyoon should be getting used to seeing Seunghoon and his boytoy making out in broad daylight—those two have no shame, after all.

He supposes he can't exactly erase that innocent side of Seungyoon. It's charming, really, if Mino really thinks about it. With a sigh, Mino goes to the door and flings it open.

—oh. Okay. That makes sense.

Because, fuck, they really, really have no shame at all.

On the couch is Seunghoon fucking his boytoy from behind, hard and fast. Mino can see clearly Seunghoon's cock driving into Jinu's pucker hole, his grip on Jinu's waist so tight Mino knows they're going to leave marks as he fucks slutty moans out of Jinu.

Mino furrows his brows. "For real, hyung?"

That has Seunghoon stopping his erratic thrusts. Only momentarily, though, because next Seunghoon is flipping Jinu on his back before Jinu can even whine out his frustration. Then he thrusts his dripping cock back into Jinu's wet hole, deep and hard, hinted by Jinu's arching back and loud 'fuck!' while he maintains the eye contact with Mino.

As if trying to challenge him. Mino gets that _look_ just fine.

"Nu-uh, I'm not a kinky bastard like you. Stay the fuck away from my sex life," Mino says.

A thrust. "Bo—" Another sharp thrust, followed by a curt 'ah!' "—ring."

Mino flips the bird at him, turning back to his room. Then hollers, "Burn that fucking couch after, asshole!" before he slams the door close just to feel the satisfaction. He doesn't give a shit about the reply Seunghoon throws back at him.

In his room, Seungyoon has made himself comfortable, interested in the blueprint spread out on the bed. The paper bag he carried is on the bedside. Mino climbs into the bed, slinging an arm around Seungyoon's shoulders. He pulls Seungyoon close for a chaste kiss on Seungyoon's ear.

"Sorry about that. I had no idea hyung was an exhibitionist bastard."

At that, Seungyoon's ears turn red. A smile splits Mino's face into half. The urge to tease Seungyoon comes flooding, and because Mino is never known as a good guy, he gives in to that urge.

"Don't tell me you never watch anyone fuck in front of you?" Mino teases.

Seungyoon doesn't say a word. Instead, he shifts his gaze to the window.

"Babe," Mino smirks, "You live in this shitty place. Whores are fucking everywhere here."

"But—but I don't watch—I look away when—" and Seungyoon bites his bottom lip, his face as red as a tomato.

"Aw, baby," Mino coos, hiding his face in Seungyoon's neck. Too adorable. He can't help the fluttering butterflies in his gut. Can't help the warmth in his chest. Can't help this feeling—

This euphoric feeling; it's different from having to watch blood drizzle from a headless neck. It's different from having the familiar weight of a head in his arms.

This euphoric feeling; it's light. Wonderful. Painful but bearable. Unfamiliar but amazing. Something Mino doesn't mind to experience over and over again even if it pains him.

"Don't baby me," Seungyoon chides.

"You blushed when you walked in on hyung and his boytoy," Mino sneers, "I can't say you're innocent, though. You moaned like a pornstar when I went down for you the other day."

Good memories, that night after their small fight in the street. Mino still remembers Seungyoon's lovely moans. Still remembers Seungyoon's struggle as he was torn between ripping his hair apart or thrusting his cock deeper into Mino's mouth. Still recalls the weight of Seungyoon's hard cock on his tongue.

Fuck, he feels horny all of a sudden.

And catching the fire of challenge in Seungyoon's eyes makes it worse. It's a surprise to see arousal instead of shyness in those beautiful eyes. A pleasant surprise nonetheless. Mino absently licks his dry lips.

"I'll show you 'innocent'," Seungyoon warns, pushing him against the bed frame, and Mino knows he's at Seungyoon's mercy.

Seungyoon crawls towards him, one limb at the time as if he's prowling like a hungry predator. Mino feels like he's being paralyzed by Seungyoon's gaze. Seungyoon digs into the drawer of the bedside to get a condom and lube out. Then he tosses them on the bed.

Wow, Mino never expected getting lube and condom out would be so sexy.

The teasing doesn't stop there. Seungyoon skates a hand up to Mino's knee, not too close, just enough to hint at his presence before he grabs his thigh. His eyes lock onto Mino's gaze, firm.

Ready to devour.

Shit, since when his baby becomes so sexy?

Carefully, slow, with a look that's meant for teasing, Seungyoon pulls down Mino's zipper then frees his cock from the confines of his brief. His cock is half hard. Seungyoon arches a brow. Mino doesn't look apologetic even in the slightest.

"Eager?" Seungyoon leers.

"Are you gonna stare at it or you wanna do something about it?" Mino shoots back.

"Gimme a kiss first," Seungyoon says, holding Mino's cock like a hostage, and fuck it if Mino didn't grant his wish; Mino grabs the nape of Seungyoon's neck and pulls him into an impatient kiss.

Nothing is sweet about a kiss when sex is in the equation—all teeth and tongue. A heat of pleasure builds up in Mino's gut as Seungyoon pistons his hand up and down Mino's dripping cock. Seungyoon swipes his thumb on the slit, and Mino growls a moan into Seungyoon's mouth.

Too hot. Too much.

Before he can voice out his thought, Seungyoon pulls away and dives onto his cock instead. Surprised, Mino bucks his hips but Seungyoon is quick to hold him down. Mino whines.

"Patient." Seungyoon glares from beneath his fringe. Mino bites his bottom lip.

Seungyoon gets back to pleasuring him again. Seungyoon, that baby bastard is all but doing half-assed. And Mino really loves and hates that side of his.

He runs his tongue between the balls, sucking them gently like they're sweets. Mino's cock becomes slippery as Seungyoon makes long strokes on the backside with his tongue, almost slobbering. He makes up the neglected part where he can't fit in his mouth with his right hand, pumping ever so slowly like he's making sure Mino is feeling every moment of it.

And damn, Mino is really feeling every single moment. His clenching hands on the sheet are solid evidence.

But.

Getting blowjob from Seungyoon isn't the nail of his coffin. No. Not even close. It's watching Seungyoon finger himself while blowing him going to end him.

And fuck, Seungyoon's moans around his stuffed mouth. So sinfully sexy.

Seungyoon lets go of his cock when Mino almost bursts his own nuts. Seungyoon's lips glisten in the late noon sunlight as he smirks. Mino is smitten.

He straddles Mino's laps, kissing Mino deeply. Mino can taste himself on Seungyoon's tongue. Strangely, the taste turns him on.

"Wouldn't want you to exert yourself." Seungyoon smiles against Mino's lips, trailing his fingers across the bandage before he puts the condom on Mino's cock.

Mino hisses and then wraps his arms around Seungyoon's waist. "Why, thank you. Aren't you kind."

"I care for you." Seungyoon peels his pants off but not his shirt before throwing them away. Mino doesn't mind. There's a beauty in fucking in shirts, anyway. Not every sex needs to have the clothes off.

There will be 'next time', after all.

"And thank you for that." Mino kisses the line of Seungyoon's collarbone. "Can we get back to fucking? My nuts feel like exploding."

Seungyoon chuckles, taking Mino's shirt off. "Way to ruin the moment."

Regardless, Seungyoon is kind enough to line Mino's cock to his twitching hole. With his hands on Mino's shoulders, Seungyoon pushes himself down. The slide is slow, but Mino can indulge the spasm of Seungyoon's walls around him, so he doesn't push his luck.

When he finally is pushed to the hilt, a collective sigh escapes them both; Mino from pleasure while Seungyoon from the feeling of being full.

Being this close, Mino can see a bead of sweat on Seungyoon's short lashes. He kisses it away. "You okay?"

Seungyoon's breath on his cheek is warm. He nods. Mino places a sweet kiss on Seungyoon's forehead, his hand wandering up Seungyoon's spine in to comfort him.

He can feel bumps and raised skin; a hint of scars, but Mino says nothing. Probably from a bad childhood. He keeps secrets from Seungyoon; he can respect Seungyoon's privacy as well.

After what it feels like an eternity, Seungyoon moves. Careful and slow as he finds the pace to his liking. Every slide down brings a short 'uh' out of Seungyoon. Warm breaths puff out from his swollen lips. Mino watches, entranced by him.

Seungyoon dips down for a kiss. It's sloppy and slow, disturbed by Seungyoon's riding but Mino takes whatever is dished out. He won't be greedy. Not now. Not when Seungyoon wants to take the reins.

Soon, the pace picks up. The moans are pouring quicker out of Seungyoon's throat. Seungyoon's fringes are matted on his forehead, slicked by sweat. Mino kisses down the column of Seungyoon's sweaty neck, finding a place to suck on before he settles on Seungyoon's two small birthmarks.

Mino laps his tongue there before sucking the skin. Salty.  Red blooms on his pale skin like a flower. It completes his  redhead look. Bathed in the late noon sunlight, it's beautiful.

So, so beautiful.

"I love you."

Surprised, Seungyoon accidentally drops his hips, and a loud moan tears out of his throat, eyes screwed shut, hinting at—

Huh.

Grabbing Seungyoon by his elbows to steady him, Mino pulls him closer. "There?"

A weak nod is the only thing Mino needs to know as he flips Seungyoon down onto the bed. Seungyoon latches his hands onto Mino's elbows, wide-eyed.

"Your wound—"

"All better now." Mino pushes Seungyoon's knees up to his chest. He can feel Seungyoon twitching around him in anticipation. Can see it even. The colour of Seungyoon's dripping cock is angry red, in contrast to his pale stomach. He smirks, "Now, lemme worship you, baby."

And worship Seungyoon he does—with his cock.

Mino fucks him quick and hard, with abandon, enjoying Seungyoon's wanton moans. The sound of slapping skin is a real turn-on. The bed creaks loudly underneath them.

"Ah, Mino-sshi—AH!"

Mino files away every twisting of muscles on Seungyoon's face in his mind; the furrowed brows, his screwed shut eyes, the lines of his cheek muscles as Seungyoon trashes at the feeling of it.

Wow, Seungyoon is very, very tight around him. He'd love to get lost in this feeling forever.

Seungyoon's fingers are scratching deep in the skin on his back. Mino takes it as a compliment. A sharp thrust and Seungyoon's body arches. Mino can see a sheen of sweat on his throat, glowed by the sunlight from the window, and Mino really, really can't help it.

He just can't—

"I love you so much."

Seungyoon gasps. Mino doesn't know if it's because of the thrust or his confession.

"I love you so, so much," Mino says again, fucking him harder. "I love—"

Seungyoon pulls him down for a bruising kiss.

Mino gets lost in the feeling of Seungyoon around him and on his tongue. Seungyoon wraps his legs tighter around Mino's waist. He takes this cue to stroke Seungyoon's neglected, angry-red cock, in tandem to his thrusts.

"Mino—"

"Come," Mino says once, and Seungyoon comes with a soundless howl, his head thrown back. Mino follows soon after, pushed by Seungyoon's spasm muscles.

For a long breathless moment, they bask in their high, sated.

"I love you," Mino says again when his chest feels way too warm. He kisses the corner of Seungyoon's lips. "I love you so much."

Seungyoon still has his eyes closed.

...

More sunlight spills into the room since Mino opened the window wider to air the reek of sex out of the room. It splashes in the shape of a square on Seungyoon's curled body on the bed while he pillows his head with Mino's left thigh, lying on his side.

It's mesmerizing, really, seeing the sunlight curve around Seungyoon's figure. Seungyoon seems to be glowing. His bare legs look like they were carved from marble despite all the faint scars.

Exquisite. Ethereal. A perfect fit to have them wrapped around his hips.

Mino takes a long drag of his cigarette. "When this shit is over," he growls, "I'm gonna kill that bastard of a client for putting your life on the line."

Seungyoon is quiet. Then, "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Promise?"

Mino presses his lips on Seungyoon's shoulder. "I swear on your life, baby."

Seungyoon kisses him, with a smile.

...

The plan worked; now they have Fox running around in the port they're familiar with.

Fox is fast. Sleek. So fucking slippery as he hops onto another container. Mino wonders how the fuck he can breathe behind that fox mask.

A sudden swipe of an axe from the right side has Fox sliding onto his knee. Mino smirks; it's Seunghoon. He thrusts his axe down, but Fox is quick to jump back.

Gotta keep him on the ground, Mino thinks, lurching forward.

"Hyung!" Mino shouts.

Seunghoon gets the message just fine.

Together, Seunghoon and Mino attack Fox. 2 vs 1; unfair. Well. Nothing is fair in love and war.

The equation is simple; Mino aims for the upper part, Seunghoon the lower part. Mino attacks the right side, and Seunghoon the left side. Almost like a mirror. In sync. Mino can see Fox struggling to dodge every attack.

Fox raises his arms to deflect the momentum of Seunghoon's axe from above with his hunting knives, half kneeling to balance himself. Seunghoon pushes him down further to lock him down in the position.

The neck is open. Mino pulls his sword back wide, eyes on the neck—

A sound of cracking bones, followed by Seunghoon's axe embedded deep in the metal floor while Fox rolls away from Mino's blade. The hunting knives lay useless on the ground.

How the fuck.

Fox starts to move, both hands close to his chest. Mino quickly presses the earpiece, calling out, "Bobby!"

On cue, two loud explosions on the directions of 10 o'clock and 2 o'clock shake the ground. An avalanche of burning containers paints the sky  orange . Fox seems startled by it, a little lost before he runs again.

The explosions should narrow down the escape routes.

"Fucking psycho," Seunghoon smirks, taking the knives on the ground.

Mino checks his blade as if it was the sword's fault for not being able to reach the flesh. "What happened?"

Seungyoon tucks the knives into his military boots. "Broke his own knuckles just to get free from his own weapons."

"Ah."

And the chasing scene ensues.

Mino asks Hanbin via the earpiece. "Where?"

"Hiding. On the ground. Two containers on your right. The dark blue one."

"Right."

"You ambush, I cover?" Seunghoon suggests.

"Awesome," Mino agrees. Then they split up.

Mino makes a large round, so he can stay out of Fox's sight. Waiting for an opening isn't his thing, so he just charges forward as soon as he spots him, catching Fox off guard while Fox is looking at another way.

He rolls his shoulder back. Then.

A clean cut—

Fox gasps.

—across the mask. Mino growls out, "Lucky bastard," under his breath, and.

And his heart stops.

"Seungyoon?"

The eyes, the lips, the jawline, the nose—wait, no, Seungyoon's nose isn't crooked down like that.

Fox—Seungyoon? Target? Fox? Mino's confused. Perplexed, even—widens his eyes. "You know Yoon?"

A knife whizzes by Mino's head from behind and stabs Fox's sleeve into the metal wall behind him. Seunghoon's support. Another knife, and it snaps Mino back to reality.

No. Not Seungyoon.

Adrenaline rushes back into Mino's bloodstream, and he—

> —the first cervical vertebra in the spine that supports the skull was named Atlas, after the titan who was defeated in his battle with Zeus and condemned to hold up the heavens at the edge of the world.
> 
> Such a little thing. But holds a significant role.
> 
> It's the only place Mino always aims at for decapitation—

—slices the head off of the neck. Just like that. Happens in seconds, and it's done.

Fox's eyes are still wide open when the head rolls to the ground with a 'thud'. Blood drizzles out of the main artery like sprinkles. It splatters across his face, his hair, even his suit.

Finally. 

His bloody sword feels heavy in his hold. Mino straightens his spine. Slowly. Tiredly.

A drop of blood drips from his eyelashes. Mino tries to wipe the blood away from his eye with his sleeve. It doesn't disappear. Instead, it gets sleeker. Mino heaves a sigh.

No, not a sigh of satisfaction. Not this time.

Just relief.

"You okay?" Seunghoon emerges from shadows. He kicks the head away. It rolls into the shadow.

Mino can't even muster any strength to smirk. "I'm pooped."

"I can see that," Seunghoon chuckles. He looks around, nodding in acknowledgement. He presses a finger to his earpiece. "Hanbin, Bobby. Get down here, our mission is accomplished."

No sound.

"Hanbin, Bobby. Come in," Seunghoon repeats.

"They're fine," an unfamiliar voice replies.

Alarmed, Mino clenches his sword tight, sharp eyes roaming around, on guard in instant seconds. Even Seunghoon is scanning around like a hawk.

"At ease, gentlemen," a nasal voice from above them says.

Mino's fingers twitch around the handle of his sword. He squints against the bright sunlight, making out the shape of a creepy grin, burgundy suit—

The masked man.

'Fight-and-flight' instincts kick in, inclining towards 'fight.' Mino glares daggers at the man. He's so fucking ready to slice the bastard if the situation calls for it.

"I see you completed your mission. Congratulations."

"Seems like you expected us to fail," Seunghoon growls.

The man shrugs. "Always prepare for the worst."

"Where are Hanbin and Bobby?" Mino asks.

"Safe. Don't worry. Bae and Dae won't hurt them," he answers. "Though, I'd recommend you two to be at the best behavior. It'd be a shame to lose good hitmen like you two." The man gestures around the chest area with one gloved hand.

Instinctively, Mino checks his chest. A red dot. A hidden sniper. He can't pinpoint the bastard's location. Seunghoon has it as well.

"Dirty bastard," Seunghoon hisses.

"Drastic situations call for drastic measures."

Mino tries to calm down. He really does, but he's going to lose it for sure if the man drags this out. Mino asks, "Can you leave Seungyoon alone after this? As you can see, the target is dead. Headless."

"Aren't you going to wrap it in a white cloth? Put it in a bag? White roses?" The man tips his head to the side, feigning innocent.

"In your fucking dream," Mino spits. "Our fucking client can do it themselves if they really want it."

"I suppose he can."

Seunghoon looks around, still on high alert. "I don't see Grim Reaper anywhere. I assume you finished that bastard off to make this job easier?"

"Oh, no." The masked man shakes his head. "Please, don't mistake us as charity workers. We aren't generous enough to make people's job easier. Don't worry about Grim Reaper, though. He won't go after you two, I assure you."

Strange. Mino can't help being skeptical. "Why?"

"He's our client."

Mino blinks. "What."

That doesn't make any sense. It doesn't match the information. It's—

A broken piece, a thought hits Mino. Not a missing piece of a puzzle. No. There's a broken piece ruining everything. Like a virus. It infects other puzzles, one at a time, and now the whole picture is distorted.

The masked man ignores him, flipping his old model phone open. "And he's here to pick up the head."

There are light footsteps from behind. For some reason, Mino's chest feels too small. A sudden ball of cold feelings develops in his gut.

A melody of death.

"Motherfucker..."

Mino hears Seunghoon curse. What, why—what made Seunghoon say that? What is happening? What—

Mino pivots around. The first thing he sees is a pair of black shoes. Then fingers—

Red flushed fingers are coated in blood as they cradle the head. So much red that it stains the white uniform. So much red that it contrasts against the pale skin. So much red that it matches the red hair—

— red hair.

"Thank you for your hard work, Mino-sshi," Seungyoon smiles.

Mino's heart breaks into a million pieces.


	5. KSY || Grim Reaper: The Origin & SMH || The Executioner: The Finale

At the tender age of six, the first memory that Kang Seungyoon captures is a boy standing across the white room. He blinks, eyes heavy with sleep. The white bed is cold beneath his skin.

The boy isn't too tall. Just barely reaches the man's waist beside the boy.

"He'll be your Contractor," the man says. His firm voice cuts through the deafening silence. Cuts through the fog inside his brain. Cuts through his human conscience—

**—input accepted. Primary Protocol initiation—**

**'Protect the Contractor.'**

**'Prioritize input from the Contractor.'**

Kang Seungyoon sleeps in the chain restriction.

...

Woo Jiho, his Contractor's name; Seungyoon learns one day.

He doesn't know what day it is. Monday, Tuesday? His Contractor claims today is Friday. What is Friday? Seungyoon doesn't understand. Doesn't get the relevance. Every day is white to him.

"Yes, my name. Woo Jiho." The Contractor places his hand on his own chest. "I'm Woo Jiho. You can call me hyung." 

Seungyoon mimics him, a hand on his own chest as well. The chains around his wrists rattle loudly in the quiet room. "Hyung."

"No, no." The Contractor shakes his head. He takes Seungyoon's hand to put on his chest, "Me, hyung. You, Seungyoon," then returns Seungyoon's hand to his own chest. 

The hand is warm compared to his own—cold. Almost numb. Filled with blood from coldness.

"Seungyoon." He points at himself, then, "Hyung."

The Contractor—no, Hyung now, he's a hyung, Seungyoon chides himself—pulls a genuine smile, so broad it reaches the corner of his eyes. He lands a hand on Seungyoon's small shoulder. It feels light on his shoulder. Like a feather.

"Yes. You, Seungyoon, and me, hyung. We are a family. An important word, okay?"

Family, the word; it engraves deeply inside Seungyoon's brain. So deep that it—

**—input unrecognized. delete unrecognized input.**

**Family. an important word. input provided by the Contractor.**

**delete unrecognized input: request denied, an input—**

A glitch.

...

"Yoon, smile more."

Seungyoon blinks at Hyung. "Smile?"

"Yes, like this." Hyung pushes up the corner of his lips with his index fingers. His teeth are revealed. Seungyoon can even see his chipped fang.

"You look silly, hyung."

"Just try it!"

Seungyoon does even though he's uncertain. Hyung laughs at him, saying, "Hah, you look more silly!!!"

...

Seungyoon practices in front of the mirror until he gets the smile right. Until it feels right on his face without the help of his fingers. Until Hyung smiles genuinely back at him.

...

According to the men in white coats, Hyung is going to teach him about this world. About this life. About himself.

Hyung is a great teacher. He knows about a lot of things. He knows the code to the white room, and he knows how to unlock the chains. Hyung knows every path of this facility, memorized them like the back of his hand. He has all the answer to Seungyoon's endless questions.

The sun in Seungyoon's eyes. The centre of Seungyoon's orbit. Hyung is mesmerizing, so Seungyoon follows him around like a puppy, eager to learn more.

"Jaebum," Hyung points at a kid across the table in the deserted cafeteria. "He's like you too. But no Contractor yet, so he's still in limbo. Go ahead, say hi to him."

"Can I really?" Seungyoon tips his head to the side, confused.

"Yea! Making friends is fun!"

**—Friends: unrecognized input. transport input, location: protocol array, below 'Family.' awaiting further instructions—**

So he does as he's told; go to the table and say 'hi' to the kid. Jaebum doesn't say 'hi' back, lost in his thought, lost in the bowl of salad in front of him. Seungyoon pays no mind to that; Jaebum doesn't have a Primary Protocol assigned yet. He returns to Hyung's side almost immediately.

"How was it? Was that fun?" Hyung asks.

"It was okay," he answers, almost quiet, eyes down on the floor. What is fun?

"Eyy!!! That was great, alright! Gimme a high-five!"

Seungyoon gives him the high-five. Hyung has a broad satisfied smile on his young face. 

**satisfaction is achieved. mission completed.**

...

It's loud. So, so loud.

The sound of falling objects. The sound of flesh meeting flesh as Hyung punches a boy in the face. The sound of screaming echoing in the cafeteria when Hyung growls in anger.

"You're the stupid one, Seungyoon is not a—"

Another swing. Gets caught in a hand. The boy retaliates with a punch on Hyung's face.

Seungyoon widens his eyes.

**—a threat. a threat to the Contractor. Primary Protocol initiated—**

His body moves on instincts. His hand snatches a tray on the long table, and Seungyoon swings it at the back of the boy's head, hard. So hard that the sound 'clang!!!' resounds loudly in the cafeteria.

**'Protect the Contractor.'**

Resounds loudly in Seungyoon's ears.

**'Protect Hyung.'**

The boy falls forward. Hyung has his eyes bulged wide. Fear. Seungyoon straddles the fallen boy from behind then hits him with the tray. Once, twice, thrice—

**presents a danger to Primary Protocol. to the Contractor. the threat must be eliminated. elimination process: kill—**

Another swing. Another swing. More swings.

**'Protect Hyung.'**

"Stop it, Seungyoon!"

**—input from the Contractor: stop. flagged. awaiting further instruction.**

His hands stop. Stop moving altogether. The tray falls onto the floor. Clanks against the linoleum floor. Ragged breaths escape Seungyoon. His vision refocuses. 

Then only his mind registers everything; blood. 

There's blood everywhere. On the floor. On the boy's destroyed head. On the tray, at the edges of it. On his hands. On his scrubs. On his face—blood is everywhere.

Only red.

Contrast to his pale skin.

What—

Seungyoon turns to Hyung. Seated on the floor, Hyung looks ashen pale. Like something so precious has been snatched away from him. And Seungyoon can't understand that. Can't understand why he looks so terrified when he's successfully eliminated the threat. Can't understand—

"Hyung—"

Men in black clothes pull him away. Seungyoon lets them. Too dumbstruck. Too numb. Hyung's terrified expression burns hotly in his mind.

...

White.

He doesn't like this white room. Everything is white. Too white. The deafening silence is terrifying. He keeps hearing things that aren't there. No talking is allowed without permission. Because everything is padded, no sound produced.

After the incident, they washed him down with a hose. Seungyoon watched as the blood swirled into the drain. The coldness bit into his pale skin. He endured it through gritted teeth.

Then they shoved him into this white room. White clothes, white plates, white food, brought by a person who always wears a white coat, white shoes and a white mask over his face.

Too much white that it blinds Seungyoon.

His sense of time has dulled by the whiteness. Hallucinations take over his mind—floating people, vicious voices; they come and go as they please. He huddles in the corner, not wanting to bother the ghost lingering in the middle of the room. Makes himself as small as possible, curling into himself to limit the contact with those ghosts.

From time to time, there's a voice echoing in the room; a deep baritone voice. 

"Why did you hurt Subject 012?"

He doesn't know if it's real or not. He has no ways to know, but he needs something. Something to hold on other than those vicious voices, so he would always answer, "Protect... Hyung," into his drawn-up knees.

The voice would fall silent after that.

And he'd be rendered alone in this miserable silence for hours before the voice asks again.

...

More meals are sent into the white room. All white. Bleak. He stares at the porridge on the padded floor. Lost. He touches the bowl. It feels cold. A warm breath escapes his dry lips as he sighs. His tummy is empty, his cold hands are trembling from hunger, but his appetite doesn't come.

A man stands at the door—or he thinks the man is doing so. He doesn't know. He can't see, vision blurred by the whiteness.

"Why did you hurt Subject 012?"

He frowns. Still trying to locate the source of the voice. Ah, a white mask.

"I ask; why did you hurt Subject 012?"

He squints. His brain is struggling to process the question.

"Answer me, or your Contractor will receive your punishment in your stead."

**—Contractor—**

His ears perk up. His spine erects, and he returns the eye contact. The man doesn't flinch away from the firm gaze.

**Primary Protocol initiated: protect the Contractor. a threat to the Contractor is present. input: interrogation. elimination process: an acceptable answer.**

He finds his voice again, surprisingly firm and calm, eyes on the man, focused. "Primary Protocol: the Contractor must be protected at all cost. Subject 012 was a threat to the Contractor. Subject 012 must be eliminated."

The man stares down at him. He doesn't sway from the scrutiny. Then a nod before the man leaves. Leaves him alone with the ghosts and vicious voices.

Seungyoon sleeps.

...

A blur of  pink barrels into his white room. Seungyoon feels it first before he realizes he's been pulled into a crushing hug. Fingers clench into the back of his shirt till they catch his skin too. A face is tucked in his neck, and he feels tears wetting his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Yoon, I didn't know—I should've known better—you were just protecting me, and they took you away, and they—"

Hyung.

Ah. 

A familiar person. Familiar scent. Familiar warmth. Seungyoon can't help melting into it. He squishes his cheek on Hyung's shoulder, carefully, cautiously, as if Hyung is going to vanish into whiteness.

Like those ghosts. Like those vicious voices.

His pink shirt hurts Seungyoon's eyes, reflected deep on his eyes like a  lotus on a dark pond, bright, but it's  pink , not white, just  pink , so Seungyoon doesn't mind it.

It's not white.

...

At the age of 10, Kang Seungyoon gets a gun. 

The Desert Eagle model. 

Fired by a single action hammer, and has a manual safety switch on the slide. The ambidextrous safety switch prevents it from moving forward and reduces the possibility of the gun discharging accidentally. By virtue of the muzzle energy it can generate, it is the most powerful magazine-fed semi-automatic commercial handgun.

Long story short, it's a fine gun for a semi-automatic pistol.

The first time he holds the gun, he drops it on the floor, surprised by the unexpected weight. It thuds loudly, and for a second, Seungyoon thinks he's done for.

A man, with a cap on, raises a lazy brow. His stare is cold, almost hidden in the cap's shadow. Seungyoon knows what needs to be done.

Reluctantly, Seungyoon picks the gun up with both of his hands.

Awkward in his bony hands. Too heavy in his hold. He can't close his fingers around the grip properly. His index finger can't even reach the safety pin.

"One hand," the man says, his voice almost drawling. 

Seungyoon knits his brows together, biting his lips. His vision is watery when he turns to the man. Too heavy. Too cold. He doesn't want this. He wants to put down the gun—

"One hand," the man insists.

Seungyoon holds the gun in one hand despite himself.

...

Every shot has Seungyoon closed his eyes, so his aims aren't precise. Every shot rings loudly in Seungyoon's eardrums, so he winces in pain.

—Hyung's lips are moving. Seungyoon just frowns, puzzled.

He can't hear Hyung properly that day, deafened by the gunshots.

...

Practice makes perfect, they say. So that's what Seungyoon does. Practice.

Every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every second.

Until he can hold the gun properly. Until he can shoot without flinching. 

Until he can coordinate it with rapid movements. Until his palms become rough. 

Bruises start to bloom on his pale skin. Seungyoon often stares at his calloused palms, picking at the blisters. Sometimes they bleed, sometimes they don't. 

Frowns become a default expression on Hyung's face. But Hyung doesn't get angry at him. Nor does he yell at him when he wraps bandages around the rough fingers.

For some reason, that feels worse, and Seungyoon has no clue why.

...

There are times where Hyung gets this faraway look on his face. Like he's in a dream, far deep in his thoughts, unreachable even though Hyung is physically there.

One day, Seungyoon musters the courage to ask, "What are you thinking, Hyung?"

Hyung flattens his palms on the wall. Presses his ear against it. And slides his eyes closed.

"The world," he answers.

...

The world is the planet Earth and all life on it, including human civilization. In a philosophical context, the 'world' is the whole of the physical Universe, or an ontological world (the 'world' of an individual). In a theological context, the _world_ is the material or the profane sphere, as opposed to the celestial, spiritual, transcendent or sacred spheres.

Seungyoon isn't sure if the definition aligns with Hyung's world.

...

—A threat.

His brain registers a threat. 

His body moves on automatic pilot; slotting the gun parts littered on the table into place, the bullets into the magazine, pulling the safety pin off, yanking back the barrel till it makes a sound 'kachak' and stalking away.

All in a watery movement, smoothened by countless training.

His legs bring him to the cafeteria. Some eyes are drawn to him. A collective of gasps can be heard.

**mission: eliminate the threat.**

His eyes find the threat. Four rows ahead. He stalks towards the back of the target, aims the gun on the back of his head and—

—sitting next to the threat, he catches the alarmed expression on Hyung's face—

Fear. Disbelief. Alarmed.

—pulls the trigger.

The gunshot rings loud in Seungyoon's ears.

Because the shot range is very close, the entry wound is gashing wide due to the explosion before the bullet pierced through the skull and embedded deep in the table.

The bleeding head falls thudding into the plate on the table. Blood pools over and drips down the steel table. His lifeless eyes are still wide open.

**the threat is eliminated. the Contractor is safe. Primary Protocol is secured.**

Seungyoon lowers his gun. 

"Seungyoon, that's—" Hyung is hyperventilating. He reaches for the dead body. His hands get dirtied with blood. "Oh no—Jaebum, hey, Jaebum—no, no, no, no—"

"He's dead," Seungyoon states bluntly.

**mission completed.**

"Jaebum—no, why—" Hyung snaps at him, pushing at Seungyoon's shoulders with his bloodied hands. The blood leaves prints on Seungyoon's shirt. "—why DID you do that?! WHAT—why did you kill him?!"

Seungyoon remains nonplussed. "He was a threat to you."

"Wha—he was not! We were talking—we were friends—why did you do that to your own friend?!" Hyung yanks up Seungyoon's front collar. Anger is obviously burning in his eyes.

Seungyoon swallows thickly. His heart is thumping harder in his chest.

**self-defence mechanism: request denied. any harmful response to the Contractor is not allowed. Primary Protocol must be abided by.**

"TELL ME WHY?!!!" Hyung roars. His voice echoes through the cafeteria.

"Hyung is my Contractor. Any threat to Hyung must be eliminated, including my own friend. It's in my Primary Protocol."

Silence. Hyung falls silent. His hands drop to his sides. A myriad of feelings runs over Hyung's face; disbelief, disappointment, heartbroken. And—

And Seungyoon can't explain this painful knot in his chest.

...

Lost. 

He feels lost without Hyung. Seungyoon doesn't know what to do, not without Hyung's guidance. Hyung knows this world. Hyung knows everything.

No, Hyung is still around. Still kicking. Still breathing. 

It's just—it's as though Hyung is never there. Trapped in his own mind, out of Seungyoon's reach. 

So he does what he thinks the best at the moment; Seungyoon apologizes, "I'm sorry, Hyung."

He apologizes to Hyung. He apologizes to Hyung till his voice becomes raspy. Till the apology becomes his mantra. Till his own feet becomes his default view.

He apologizes and apologizes and apologizes until Hyung says, "Enough. Stop."

Seungyoon stops. His eyes remain lowered, though, worried if Hyung disappears into his own world again. He remains seated on the cold floor, legs folded beneath him.

"Look at me."

Cautiously, Seungyoon lifts his head. Hyung is sitting on the bed, his face ragged and tired. Seungyoon has a sudden urge to hold Hyung, to wipe that look away, to make Hyung feel better but refrains himself.

**awaiting further instruction.**

Hyung starts on a sigh, "Look, Jaebum—"

"He was a threat," Seungyoon interrupts.

Hyung frowns. "No, he wasn't—"

"He was. I was told that he had the intention to harm you—"

"No, he didn't. Who told you that?"

"—by the doctors. Therefore, I must eliminate him to protect you—"

"Seungyoon—"

"You are my Contractor—"

"—Yoon—

"According to the Primary Protocol, the Contractor is my top priority. The Contractor must be protected at all cost—"

"Stop—" 

"All threats to the Contractor must be eliminated—"

Hyung grabs him by the shoulders. Harsh. "SEUNGYOON!"

Seungyoon blinks. Hyung's scream hangs heavily in the air.

"Listen." Hyung sounds so exasperated. His holds on Seungyoon's shoulders are tight. They weigh down on his body, and Seungyoon feels like he's pushed down into the ground even though Hyung isn't doing that.

He won't. Seungyoon trusts him.

"Listen, Seungyoon, the doctors—they lied to you. Jaebum—he wasn't—" Hyung lets out a heavy sigh. "Whatever it is, don't just go killing people—"

"You were in danger. You're my Contractor. I must protect you—"

"I'm your HYUNG!" Hyung screams at the top of his lungs. His scream echoes in the room. In Seungyoon's ears. "I'm your Hyung. Not just—Contractor, no, I'm more than that. I don't need protection. I protect you."

No, it doesn't make any sense. Seungyoon doesn't like this. "But—but the Primary Protocol indicates that—"

"You are not a machine, Seungyoon. You don't need that protocol to live. That chip inside your brain doesn't dictate your life."

"The Primary Protocol must be abided by regardless of what happens." Panic begins to claw at Seungyoon's insides. No, no, this isn't right. "Because you're my Contractor. The doctors said, without Hyung, I can't be human. Without the Primary Protocol—"

Hyung cups Seungyoon's face in his hands. "You are human."

Seungyoon sucks in a breath.

"You're human. And I'm your Hyung. Make this your new Primary Protocol."

**input accepted. new Primary Protocol unrecognized. installation: request denied.**

"This is an order from your Contractor."

**input accepted. a command from the Contractor. Primary Protocol is abided by. Input: new Primary Protocol.**

**unrecognized data. delete unrecognize data. request denied.**

No, it's clashing with the Primary Protocol. He can't—

**a command from the Contractor. data is a violation of Primary Protocol. incorrect syntax. begin recovery—**

**error.**

Seungyoon jolts in Hyung's arms, in sharp pain. His hands clutch his head, tight, and Seungyoon doubles over from the sudden pain. 

"Yoon?!"

**error. flagged. error.**

An excruciating pain explodes behind Seungyoon's eyelids. His fingers dig into his scalp in a vain attempt to get rid of the pain. His muscles are all tense up like livid wires. His mouth gapes open in a soundless howl.

**error. flagged. error.**

"Yoon, Yoon, no, no, no—"

**violation of Primary Protocol. countermeasure needed. error. flagged.**

"—Yoon, listen to my voice, Hyung is here, Yoon—"

Hyung's panicked voice washes over Seungyoon, and he suddenly finds himself curled in Hyung's embrace. Hyung is whispering words into his ear.

**violation of Primary Protocol—**

Seungyoon holds onto Hyung like a lifeline.

...

"We're gonna get out of this place one day," Hyung promises him.

**—error. flagged. violation—**

Head on Hyung's shoulder, Seungyoon stares at the thick steel door numbly. The door looks watery, though.

**—error. flagged. violation—**

...

The first touch of the natural wind takes Seungyoon's breath away. He takes in the scenery in front of him. 

An endless field, with trees as a border between the earth and heavens.  Cornflower blue skies, blanketed with white clouds.  Red spider lilies among the  greens .

It's like Seungyoon's eyes are splashed with colours.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Seungyoon turns to Hyung next to him. Hyung has twinkles of stars in his eyes. Then Seungyoon glances over his shoulder.

Compared to the ruins of the facility behind them, nothing can hold a candle to the greenery ahead of them.

And no, it wasn't him nor Hyung. Words had it that Subject 00 ran amok and started the whole chaos. Seungyoon had witnessed Subject 00 on the training ground and had no doubt of his capabilities.

"Are you happy now that we're free?" Hyung asks, arms spreading, eyes closed.

Seungyoon feels the breeze in his hair. Takes a whiff of the scent of the grass. And closes his eyes to mimic Hyung.

**—error. violation. flagged—**

All he can see is black.

...

At the age of 14, finally, Seungyoon has a taste of the real world.

It's not that bad, Seungyoon reckons.

Sure, they don't have a roof over their heads, nor change of clothes, and often sleep on empty stomachs, but Seungyoon doesn't have to dismantle guns anymore. Doesn't have to memorize fatal points anymore. Don't have to endure the painful sessions anymore.

Hyung counts that as a win despite their current circumstances. Seungyoon thinks it as a temporary break.

It's just another shitty day where they ferret about in the dirty street for some leftover like rats when a teenager leers at them, "You two look like shit."

**—a threat—**

On instincts, Seungyoon points his gun at the newcomer. The teen backs away a little, hands up, with a 'Woah.'

Hyung frowns. "Yoon, no."

Seungyoon stands his ground.

"Yoon, Hyung said no," he repeats. Firmer, this time.

**—input from ~~the Contractor~~ Hyung: No. flagged. awaiting further instruction.**

Despite himself, Seungyoon lowers his gun. Though, his eyes remain on the newcomer.

"Your brother?" the teen asks. 

"Yep."

"Seems deadly."

Hyung laughs. "Sorry about that. We've had rough weeks. Or months, I don't keep track."

"Runaway?" the teen raises a brow.

"You could say that." Hyung shrugs.

"Got a tail on you guys?"

"Not that I know of." Hyung glances over his shoulder as a reflex. "If we had, my brother would've known."

The teen seems sceptical. "You sure?"

"My brother is the best. Why the sudden interest, though?"

At last, the teen looks relaxed, hands shoved in the pockets, eyes away. "Saw you two lurk around a couple of days ago. You looked pathetic if I must be blunt. P.O thought we should help you guys."

Stars of hope twinkle in Hyung's eyes. "Whoa, really? I mean, we both aren't exactly familiar with this place. But are you for real? Thanks so much—"

"Hold your horses, dude," the stranger grimaces, "P.O sure wants to help you guys, but that's just him having a big heart. Taeil and Jaehyo still don't trust you guys. Especially your little bro. That gun, geez."

"Hey, hey, I promise, no monkey business." Hyung holds up his hands to look harmless. "We'll leave as soon as we have enough money. Cross my heart and hope to die."

The teen squints at them. Then he folds his arms over his shoulders. "Got a name? I'm Park Kyung. People call me Kyung."

The grin on Hyung's face is bright. Bright enough to light up the entire city it blinds Seungyoon. Hyung says, "I'm Jiho. This is my brother, Seungyoon. Nice to meet you, Kyung."

It's Seungyoon's second introduction to 'family.'

...

Hyung and Seungyoon never leave. They never kick them out either.

...

In the context of human society, a family (from Latin: _familia_ ) is a group of people related either by consanguinity (by recognized birth), affinity (by marriage or other relationship), or some combination of these.

Seungyoon understands this from a book.

For Hyung, though, a family consists of Kyung-hyung, Yukwon-hyung, Taeil-hyung, Minhyuk-hyung, Jaehyo-hyung and Jihoon-hyung.

Hyung is happier with them. He laughs louder, smiles more and acts silly around them. His eyes are bright and radiant, filled with happiness. He sleeps soundly at nights even though nightmares from the past come visiting from time to time.

Seungyoon doesn't mind it. He can't fit in the makeshift family, but that's fine. He knows how to be a wallflower. Knows how to tiptoe around. Knows how to slink into darkness.

Amongst them all, the only person who reaches out into Seungyoon's world is Jihoon-hyung. "Alone?"

Seungyoon looks away from the sunset to glance over his shoulder. Behind him, Jihoon-hyung carries two bowls of beef stew. He passes one bowl to Seungyoon.

"Thank you."

"Nice spot you've got here." Jihoon-hyung sits down next to him, looking around the warehouse rooftop, legs dangling over the edge.

"It's alright."

"You know, you're welcome to join us downstairs. It's freezing up here. I've been here not more than two minutes, and my stew is already cold," Jihoon-hyung mourns over the loss of his stew's warmness.

"Hate to interrupt your dinner." Seungyoon stirs the stew.

"You wouldn't. You're a family."

"Yeah?" 

"Yea."

"Some are still wary of me."

"Because you act distant. If you try harder, they'll open up to you eventually."

Seungyoon stares at the stew. The stew offers a poor reflection of himself. Murky. Distorted. "I'm sorry. This is all new to me. I'm not like Hyung. He's bright and I—" and he stops there, unable to find the right word for the description of himself.

Jihoon-hyung pulls an understanding smile, slapping a hand on Seungyoon's back. Firm. Strong. Solid. Like Jihoon-hyung himself. 

"Take your time. You'll get used to it one day."

...

Hyung gets greedier after that. Now he's tasted freedom, he wants to others to have the taste of it as well. Hence, vigilantism.

Although they escaped the facility, doesn't mean Seungyoon is free. The remnants of the broken protocol remain lurking in the corner of his mind. Imprinted in his deadly instincts. Asleep in the wake of halcyon days. 

Like a predator, ready to be unleashed.

**—protect—**

Seungyoon yanks Hyung back by the back collar just before the knife slices across Hyung's face. Seungyoon shoots the assailant in the knee. The assailant drops on the ground, in pain. Seungyoon takes the chance to shoot him in the head.

One down, three to go.

Another attack from their right side. Seungyoon shoots the left foot to immobilize the man before putting a bullet between his forehead.

That's the second one.

"Yoon—"

**—protect. kill—**

A sneak attack behind them. Two men; a baldy and a curly-haired guy. Seungyoon pushes Hyung away and turns his body to the left to dodge a swinging knife. 

The bald man follows Seungyoon's movement with his knife. The other attempts to slice across Seungyoon's leg.

On quick reflex, Seungyoon tips his head to the side while steps on the swinging wrist at the lower part with the knife to parry the attacks. The curly hair retaliates with another knife, aiming at Seungyoon's thigh. Seungyoon shoots his shoulder just in time.

Now that the curly hair is momentarily immobilized, in pain, Seungyoon focuses on the other guy. The baldy lunges at him with two knives. Seungyoon moves side to side to dodge the attacks.

He blocks a swinging knife with his right arm. The baldy swipes his other hand at Seungyoon. Eyes catching the movement, Seungyoon twists his body. 

He grabs the elbow to tug the baldy forward despite the risk. Takes aim and—

Fires. Directly at the ribcage. The baldy curls into himself. Seungyoon shoots him in the head.

The curly hair recovers. He charges at Seungyoon. His movements are sloppy, still in pain as he carelessly swings his hands around. Seungyoon flicks a leg across the feet. The curly hair collapses in a heap on the ground. Seungyoon plants a bullet on the side of his forehead.

Without batting an eyelash.

**—protect. kill—**

Seungyoon steps away from the dead men. He offers a hand to Hyung. "You okay, Hyung?"

Hyung doesn't take his hand. Instead, he stares in disbelief, wide-eyed. "...Why—why did you kill them?"

"They intended to kill you." He can hear Yukwon-hyung calling 'Jiho!!!' in a distance.

"But you didn't have to kill them!"

This time, it's Seungyoon's turn to stare down at him. As though Hyung isn't making any sense. 

But it's the truth; Hyung was trying to the goodness in them even if his life was at stake. Bullshit. Seungyoon wants to bark a laugh. Wants to scorn. Hyung is too fucking naive. It's not even funny anymore.

"Hyung," Seungyoon says. "It's either kill or be killed."

The end of the discussion.

...

**—warning. flagged. protect. kill. error—**

...

It's the scent of freshly baked bread that brings Seungyoon to the bakery.

The bakery is decent. A wide front, lined with a clear glass case, wooden floor. The glass case is filled with cakes, chocolates and pies. On top of it are tins of cookies.

Seungyoon's mouth waters.

A huge man in white uniform towers over him. Seungyoon blinks at the impressive height. 

Sure Seungyoon noticed he'd hit a sudden growth spurt about two years ago when he realized that he started to look down to match the eye level. But this man, wow.

"Can I help you?" the man asks.

"The smell..." Seungyoon trails his voice off, unsure. He feels so small and fragile in front of this huge man. Like he's still undersized. Still a child.

"Ah, this scent? I'm baking melon bread at the back."

Immediately, Seungyoon's eyes locate a tray of leftover melon bread displayed in the corner. His legs carry him there. "This one?"

"Yeah. Why, are you interested—wait, wait." The man stops him before Seungyoon can reach for it. "If you, uh, if you could wait for a minute or two, you could have fresh-baked bread. How about that?"

Seungyoon blinks. "But you still have some left."

"The fresh-baked would taste better, I reckon." The man pulls a million-watt smile. 

A 'ding' from the kitchen draws the man's attention away. He makes a gesture of 'wait here' at Seungyoon. Seungyoon finds himself nodding in agreement even though he didn't have to.

A few minutes later, the man comes back with a tray of melon bread. Freshly baked. Straight from the oven. Still radiating warm puffs. 

Looking delicious. Divine. Seungyoon swallows thickly.

The man offers one to Seungyoon. "Have a taste. See if it's up to your expectation."

Seungyoon makes to grab for it. Then pauses in midway. And decides to get over it, and digs in.

The first bite of the melon bread takes Seungyoon's breath away. The crust crushes nicely between his teeth. Caramel seeps into his taste buds. Sweet floods his mouth, and Seungyoon instinctively makes a sound of 'wow' through his full mouth, wide-eyed.

The man raises a brow. Embarrassed, Seungyoon slaps a hand on his mouth.

"You like it?" the man asks.

Seungyoon nods rapidly.

"Good," he grins. "Now pay up, kid. I'm not that generous."

Uh oh.

...

The baker's name is Janghoon-sunbaenim. Not married yet. Treasures his peaceful life in spite of his impressive height.

And in dire need of an assistant.

Seungyoon applies for the position even though he has little to no experience at all in baking. The laugh Janghoon barks echoes in the bakery when he tells Janghoon-sunbaenim this. It makes Seungyoon's chest a little warmer.

...

"So this is where you've been hiding."

Seungyoon isn't surprised to hear the familiar voice from behind. He continues kneading the dough on the counter, undisturbed by Hyung's presence in the kitchen. 

In fact, he might have expected it ever since he had decided to move out of the warehouse.

"Nice place," Hyung says.

Seungyoon says nothing. He wipes the sweat on his forehead.

"The cookies on the counter—did you bake them?" Hyung asks, to which Seungyoon replies with a mere nod. "Can I taste them?"

"At your own risk," Seungyoon says.

Hyung takes one, "Okay," and bites down on it, only to yelp out his surprise, "What the fuck—it's so fucking hard. I might choke on this! Man, you suck at this! How could you get hired when you made this shit?"

Seungyoon points the rolling pin at Hyung, eyes squinting. "Shut up, or I'll have you eat this pin instead."

"That's new." Hyung sounds surprised. 

"What."

"A snarky reply from you." Hyung shrugs, checking the dough on the counter. He pitches the hard cookie into the bin. "You would usually stay unbothered by it. Keep a poker face all the time. Hard to guess what's on your mind."

"Janghoon-sunbaenim said I should work more on my expressions. Can't greet the customers with the same expression all the time, can I?"

"Yea." There's a beat of silence before Hyung breaks with a snort of laughter. "Wise decision to keep a distance with us. You seem happier here."

The tone, it perks Seungyoon's attention. Something shitty happened. His hands stop working on the dough. "Something's going on at home?"

"Nothing much." Hyung looks away.

There's no 'nothing' in that uncertain look. Seungyoon presses, "Hyung."

Hyung bites his bottom lip. His gaze shifts around. His hands are clenching and unclenching. Signs of guilty.

"Hyung—"

"I made a deal with the resistance army in the North-West Gate," Hyung blurts out, and Seungyoon can feel a headache coming. Hyung notices his eye-roll and tries to appease him, "Listen, Yoon—listen!"

Seungyoon glares at him but listens nonetheless.

"I assure you there's no risk involved in this job," Hyung starts, "There's a warehouse near the port. It's a deserted place. Not many go there."

Hah, Seungyoon wants to hit something. Or someone, specifically.

"Armoury storage. We're talking about rifles, shotguns, handguns here—even grenades. Worth at least a hundred million won. In and out, no killing is necessary."

"So you've graduated from being a hero to an arms dealer now?" Seungyoon is skeptical. "Did I miss the cue to clap?"

"No, no, that's not the point, Yoon—"

"Of course, that's not the point." His words drip sarcasm.

"Yoon, it's the resistance army. From the North-West Gate." Hyung attempts to prove his point. "We all know it's all shit and war in the North-West Gate. The rich oppress the poor. People get killed when they try to voice out their pain to the world. They need help!"

"As if this shitty place is any better!" Seungyoon exclaims. Hyung gapes, surprised. "Kids run around like rats. Hitmen lurk everywhere, ready to kill at the first phone call. People sleep on empty stomachs. And you dare talk about helping them?"

"Yoon—"

"Have you thought about your family when you accepted the deal? Have you calculated all the risk that they may face after the raid? Have you thought this through?"

That stumps Hyung into silence.

"You talk about peace, but you bring danger to yourself. To your own family. You talk about not killing people, but every action you take incites violence in your life," Seungyoon gushes, exasperated, "Wake the fuck up, Hyung! Stop living in your dream!"

Hyung stares. Dumbstruck by Seungyoon's sudden outburst. Then he looks away, a hand on his lips as though he's having a problem to digest everything.

"Hyung—"

Hyung leaves.

...

The frustration after the little fight in the kitchen haunts Seungyoon for days. It must have shown on his face because Janghoon-sunbaenim calls him out during the lunch break for small talk.

"The other day, your brother?" Janghoon-sunbaenim asks.

Seungyoon nods, eyes head at the convenience store across the street. The wind breezes in from the front door. Their teas become cold, heat is blown away by the wind.

"He seems nice."

"He's a troublemaker," Seungyoon says, playing with his fingers. He suddenly wishes for a customer walking in. Or a simple 'ding' from the kitchen. Or a simple disturbance so he could escape from this talk.

"Did he cause trouble?"

"He's planning to."

"I see. Hence, the pouting lips."

Seungyoon frowns. "I don't pout."

"Yes, you are. Your lips are pushed out. You look annoyed. So yes, brat, you're pouting," Janghoon-sunbaenim points out bluntly.

"I'm not—it's just—" Seungyoon sighs, resigned.

Janghoon-sunbaenim is quiet at first. Then, "He's your brother."

**—Hyung. Contractor. semantics—**

"I know." Seungyoon looks down at his own feet. Exasperation develops into a ball in his gut. Annoying. A nuisance.

"No matter how annoying he is, he's still a family."

**—Family. protect—**

"And family always helps each other."

**—protect. flagged. kill. error—**

...

**Primary Protocol initiated—**

...

It's simple, really.

A shot in the joint and finishes it with a bullet between the brow. A shot in the foot then followed by one in the brain. Always immobilize the opponent first before killing them off. A formulae Seungyoon lives by every day as an assassin.

**—Primary Protocol. Family. protect. kill. error—**

A reflection in the mirror gives away a woman waiting behind the thin wall while a man stays close with Hyung. Seungyoon tiptoes around the dead bodies on the floor then checks his bullets first. 

Four bullets left, with a spare magazine in his back pocket. Good enough.

After a deep breath to brace himself, Seungyoon shoots the woman in the rib through the wall. The woman screams in pain. Seungyoon kicks the door open and fires a bullet into the man's thigh. The man drops to the floor, face first.

The woman reaches for her knife, but Seungyoon is faster to grab a fistful of her hair and put a bullet deep in her head. An instant death. The man yells "Mina!!!!!!!!!!" at the top of his lungs. 

Seungyoon silences him, with a bullet between his brows. Blood splatters at the leg of Hyung's chair that he's tied to.

"You good?" Seungyoon walks over to Hyung's chair, tucking his gun into his back pants.

Hyung stares, but Seungyoon knows not at him. He's staring at the dead bodies. Seungyoon has no qualms Hyung's gonna talk his ear out about not killing people again.

**—protect. kill. Primary Protocol secured—**

Oh, well. Seungyoon begins to untie Hyung.

"At this rate," Hyung says, "People are gonna think the rumour is true."

"What rumour?"

"You being the grim reaper."

That has Seungyoon pausing momentarily. Sneaks a glance at the dead bodies. Then he resumes untying Hyung, muttering, "Maybe I'm a grim reaper, after all."

**—kill. to. protect—**

...

Grim Reaper was born, then. 

Lurks around in the shadows at night. Hunts for blood. Looms over Fox like a gargoyle, ready to lash out to those who pose a threat at Fox.

That's Seungyoon's life now. Jumping from one roof to another to hunt people down at night while running around the city for delivery during the day. Cold gazes for his targets at night, and warm smiles for his customers, for the prostitutes at Lotus, for Jinwoo-sshi during the day.

A double life. Seungyoon doesn't mind it.

...

Then Song Minho happens.

Song Minho walks into the bakery, into Seungyoon's life like he owns everything. 

A suit, polished shoes, a piercing under his lip, bleached hair.

His first step, quiet but confident, hints at the darkness swirling around him. The fluidity of his movement as he carries his katana around clues Seungyoon in his capability; deadly, no hesitation.

Definitely not an ordinary man. Seungyoon can't help being on guard around him.

"Can I help you, sir?" Seungyoon approaches him.

Song Minho looks up from baguette. His cheeks are kicked up into a smile, revealing a row of white pearl teeth. "Yea, I'm looking for—"

Uh oh.

...

At the age of 24, Kang Seungyoon learns the meaning of 'heart skips a beat.'

...

Ever since that day, Seungyoon's eyes would always locate Mino-sshi. File in every gesture. Catalogue every response so he can unfold this human being named Song Minho.

Seungyoon notices the way Mino-sshi's gaze lingers around his throat. The way Mino-sshi's eyes follow his fingers. The way Mino-sshi's face lights up when Seungyoon absently runs his fingers across the column of his neck.

Something dark inside Seungyoon purrs in approval. Fascinating, really, how Mino-sshi pays attention to small things.

Flattering, even.

"You smile a lot these days. Did something good happen?" Janghoon-sunbaenim prods one day while they're loading pastry into a box for delivery.

Startled, Seungyoon blinks. "I do?"

"Yea. Happier. Brighter. Looks good on you, really." Janghoon-sunbaenim teases. "Is it because of someone?"

"Speak for yourself, sunbaenim. I caught you smiling like a fool at the shopkeeper down the street. What was her name, ah, yeah, Hyunjae-sunbaenim?"

Janghoon-sunbaenim scoffs. "I didn't smile like a fool in front of her. It was a genuine smile. What do you know about love, anyway? You can't even bake simple bread."

"What does baking have anything to do with love?!" Seungyoon retorts.

"Everything, brat. _Everything_."

...

Hyung still seeks for him.

Seungyoon still kills for him in spite of Hyung's disapproval.

**—kill. to. protect—**

**—Primary Protocol. recovery begins. code density 44%—**

**—request denied. error. flagged—**

Shitty protocol, Seungyoon thinks as he puts three bullets into the woman's spine out of spite. 

The woman screams. Her high-pitched voice still can't tune the glitching sound out. So Seungyoon fires the final bullet into her brain.

**—kill. protect. kill. protect—**

How he wishes to rip that blasted chip out of his brain.

...

One day, he returns from Lotus with  red hair , and heart stolen by Mino-sshi.

...

Living a double life drains him out, both mentally and physically. 

Thankfully, Janghoon-sunbaenim often chalks his sudden disappearance up to Hyung being a troublemaker, so he doesn't have to make up an excuse every time he has to yank Hyung's ass out of troubles.

Doesn't mean Seungyoon is pleased with it. Combined with the broken protocol in his brain **—protect. kill. Primary Protocol secured—** the stress starts to bottle up inside of him.

But, wow, Mino-sshi—he always knows to melt them away, without even trying. Even his presence is enough to brighten Seungyoon's gloomy day.

"You okay? You look like shit," Mino-sshi asks, sitting on the step next to him, a spot where he often accompanies Seungyoon during the lunch break.

Seungyoon likes it here. It's colder here at the back than the front, lit by the direct sunlight.

He doesn't meet Mino-sshi's eyes, gaze following a black tom slinking into the shadow instead. The cat hisses at him. Animals dislike him for some unknown reason. Seungyoon mutters, "Tired."

"Shitty customer?"

Shitty Hyung, but he doesn't say this. Instead, he says, "Shitty human beings."

"Wow, harsh. Does that include me as well?" Mino-sshi sounds amused.

Seungyoon tips his head to the side, and glances at Mino-sshi. No direct sunlight, only the ambience light as the source, Mino-sshi's eyes are dark, as dark as his black suit, sucking Seungyoon into the depth of the abyss.

He wonders if it's as dark as his soul.

"Nope. You're special," Seungyoon says.

The smirk on Mino-sshi's face is small but blinding. The piercing, wow, temptation, temptation. Mino-sshi asks, "Did you say that just because you like me?"

"Nope. I said that because I want to kiss you."

Mino-sshi lets out a chuckle, head thrown back. "Always straight to the point."

"Shut up." Seungyoon hides his face in his palms, because, wow, really, he hadn't expected to hear that from his own mouth. He can feel his cheeks warming up.

Damn, Mino-sshi always brings the worst out of him.

"Hey, hey, it's not fair you're being all shy after blurting that out." Mino-sshi cradles a hand on Seungyoon's cheek and urges Seungyoon to face him. "Let's grant your wish, shall we."

And kisses him on the lips.

Nothing is extraordinary about the kiss. Just a press of lips on lips. But the way Mino-sshi moves his lips and tongue steals his breath away. Seungyoon can feel the piercing grazing his skin, bumping his bottom lip, and he loves it.

Loves it so much that Seungyoon chases after him after Mino-sshi pulled away.

"Greedy fuck," Mino-sshi breathes against his lips, a hand on the nape of Seungyoon's neck, before diving in for a long, searing kiss.

...

Shit is going to get tougher, Seungyoon expects this after Hyung fucked around in someone's turf a month ago. It's just a matter of time now.

And it happens, at last—one calm afternoon where he just had a lunch break, and his phone rings in Jinwoo-sshi's hold. Jinwoo-sshi seems out of it, in his own delusional world, the withdrawal side effect. So Seungyoon gently taps his shoulder as not to startle him out.

Still got startled, though. Jinwoo-sshi's glistened eyes roam wildly. As though there is another presence than Seungyoon's.

(Seungyoon understands his suffering. It reminds him of the white room.)

"Yoon." Jinwoo-sshi finally registers his presence.

Seungyoon offers him a smile. "Yes, it's just me. You're holding my phone. Can you give it back to me?"

The phone has ceased ringing. Now rings back with a vengeance. Jinwoo-sshi shifts his teary gaze to the ringing phone in his hold. "Are you gonna disappear again if I give you this phone?"

"Disappear?"

"Yes. You always disappear after a phone call. Always. And come back with—with blood on you—and I—"

Seungyoon pulls a small smile to assure him. "Nonsense, Jinwoo-sshi. It's just the side effect of the withdrawal. I'm always around."

"But you come and go—"

Seungyoon takes Jinwoo-sshi's trembling hands into his own. "I never leave, Jinwoo-sshi. Never."

Jinwoo-sshi looks unsure, his eyes glassy, but lets go of the phone nonetheless. The phone has stopped ringing again. With a smile, the one he knows will melt even a cold heart, Seungyoon leads him to a stool, finds the spare blanket given by Seunghoon-sshi last week, and wraps him in it.

"Comfortable?"

Jinwoo-sshi grabs his wrist instead. "Don't go disappear."

"I won't," Seungyoon says.

And leaves.

Once outside, Seungyoon dials the number. The call is picked up right away. He barks out, "Location."

"West Ground. Inferno's old turf."

Jaehyo-hyung's voice. Not Hyung's. The broken protocol kicks back online inside his brain.

**—possible death. Primary Protocol initiated—**

Seungyoon picks up his pace in the wake of urgency. "Hyung?"

"With P.O—duck, you fucktards—holy—just come here—QUICKLY!"

And the line is cut off. Seungyoon has never sprinted that fast in his life.

...

**—error. kill—**

"Yoon!!"

Minhyuk-hyung sprints towards him, with an ashen pale face. Seungyoon brings up his gun, and "Duck," is the only warning Seungyoon gives him before shooting two men behind Minhyuk-hyung.

The men drop on the puddle with an audible splash. Dead.

"What the fuck—thanks a bunch," Minhyuk-hyung says between his ragged breaths as he kicks his way away from the dead bodies.

"Where are the others?" Seungyoon scans the street. His eyes glaze over the dead bodies—a tribal tattoo on the nape of their necks. From a gang. Hah.

"Scattered—"

"Jiho-hyung?"

"With P.O. Last time I saw them, they were on 24th street."

**—protect. KIll—**

"I'll find Hyung and Jihoon-hyung. Find others. Go!" Seungyoon urges the last part with a firm slap on Minhyuk-hyung's back, formality is all forgotten. 

The sense of urgency awakens, and Seungyoon bursts through the abandoned shops to get through the 24th street, uncaring if it's a junkie nest.

He hears them before he sees them; panicked voices, mighty roars, crashing sounds, and an unmistakeably "P.O!!!!" from Hyung.

A pivot of heels. He escapes the shop, eyes finding targets—

—holy mother, that hammer—

And Seungyoon jumps out of the way in the nick of time. Just before the hammer crushes his head down on the ground. Like a watermelon.

Fuck.

Seungyoon watches as the huge man raises his hammer again—a crack on the road, what the fuck? The man is probably twice his size, both height and width length. He has a metal helmet over his head, so headshot will be a difficult task.

Shit fuck. Seungyoon grits his teeth.

"Yoon!" Hyung calls out behind the man, tucked in the alleyway with Jihoon-hyung. 

He can see Jihoon-hyung's left arm hanging uselessly. Probably broken. Seungyoon makes a gesture of 'hide' with his hand before refocusing on the man again, because, damn shit, the man is aiming the hammer sideways at him.

With a quick reflex, Seungyoon steps back. The hammer slams into the wall on his right. Seungyoon hisses; a close call. He shoots three times at the man. The man dodges every one of them while charging towards him.

A swing of the hammer near his rib. Seungyoon escapes with a hair's breadth.

He finds balance with the left foot at the back, cocking his gun—

A fist thumps his chest. Hard. Air is punched out of him, and Seungyoon gasps in pain. His vision blurs. His gun slips from his hold.

"Seungyoon!!!"

A loud sound of metals clashing has Seungyoon snapping out of his daze. Hyung has slammed a bin lid against the metal helmet. Not strong enough to keep the man down, but enough to slow him down so Seungyoon can roll his way out of the grabby hand.

Annoyance is obvious from the way the man grits his crooked teeth. He lets go of the hammer in favour of catching Hyung.

Panic rushes down Seungyoon's spine watching the man manoeuvre his muscular body around. For a huge guy, his speed is no joke.

With the parkour skills that he picked up from the street, Hyung repels every harsh swipe at him. Hyung hooks a punch at the outstretched left elbow then punches the right shoulder; aiming for the joints as Seungyoon often told him so.

An 'oomph' sound escapes the man as he jolts back a little from the force. But he retaliates with a vengeance, grabbing Hyung by the face and slamming him down on the ground.

Hard. Seungyoon widens his eyes.

**—protect. KIll—**

**kill. kill. kill. KiLL. KILLKILLKILLKILLKILL** —

On automatic, Seungyoon risks rolling himself into the man's reach to snatch his gun on the ground. He barely sees the target before shooting the man in his calf twice. The man cries out in pain.

And releases Hyung.

Pumped with adrenaline, Seungyoon pushes himself up to dodge the swinging fist. He kicks himself away to create some distance between the fight and Hyung.

With a loud cry, the man picks up his hammer and lunges at Seungyoon. Seungyoon aims his gun at the man and fires. One bullet goes to the upper, another ricocheted by the hammer and—

No bullet. Shit fuck—

On instincts, Seungyoon ducks the hammer just in time before it could swipe his head off clean like a baseball, breaks the barrel apart, and closes in—

Seungyoon stares into his eyes. They show fear, and Seungyoon can see his own reflection in them.

Like a grim reaper.

**—KILL—**

And jams the parts into the man's neck. Blood splatters on his face like a bursting pipe. Panicked, the man grabs his bleeding neck in a vain attempt to stop the blood flow.

Seungyoon watches his struggle. Like a fish stranded on the land. Watches as his body succumbs to the blood loss. Watches as his soul leaves the body.

Until he stops moving.

**—protect. Protocol secured—**

Seungyoon leaves.

...

"I've told you so many fucking times—"

Seungyoon takes a long drag of the cigarette. The heat warms his chest. He can feel the acidic smoke swirling in his lungs. A contrast sensation to the cold air on the rooftop warehouse.

"—look what happened to Jihoon—"

It's amazing, really, that Kyung-hyung's voice can reach up here. Seungyoon lets out the smoke on a laugh. Kyung-hyung is very scary when he's super pissed. Especially at Hyung. He wonders how Hyung can handle his explosive fury.

"—Today it's his arm. What about next time? His leg? His chest? His head?! Why can't you think for once, just for fucking once, fucktard—"

Seungyoon shifts his focus to the sunset, tuning out Kyung-hyung's wrath. Scratches the front of his head. And takes another long drag.

Minty; a hint of menthol. Seungyoon frowns. Nothing like Mino-sshi's kiss. Not even the slightest.

He grins around the cigarette. Wistfully.

...

One calm night, Hyung shows up at the bakery. 

It's dark here in the alleyway, but Seungyoon can catch the distinct footsteps just fine. He places the box down by the back door and erects his spine on a sigh.

"A new job?"

Hyung steps out of the shadow. "No." He sounds remorse.

Seungyoon turns on his heel. Sees the hefty bag Hyung is carrying. "Going somewhere?"

"Away from here."

"How far?"

"Very far."

"Why, Kyung-hyung kicked you out?"

Hyung stares down at his feet. "I wish—" then a weary smile stretches across his face "But he's too fucking kind. Behind that scary mask, he's so, so fucking kind that I—"

"So you left on your own accord?" Seungyoon asks.

"I've become too dangerous. Everyone wants my head now, and I—" A hiss escapes Hyung. "I need to stay away for their safety. I need to—"

Fucking finally, Seungyoon thinks. He makes to walk inside. "Give me ten minutes to pack—"

"You should stay here."

That halts Seungyoon, hand on the knob. He turns around to ensure he didn't mishear Hyung, wide-eyed. "What."

"Stay here. The guys need you. They need protection. Do what you think is right for them."

"But you—"

"I can take care of myself. I've lived in the street; I know how this shit works."

Alarms flag inside of Seungyoon. "No, no, no. You know I can't leave you alone, Hyung. Not when you're in danger."

Hyung grabs his elbows. "Yes, you can! You left me when you moved out. When you chose to work here."

"It wasn't the same!" Seungyoon elbows away from Hyung's hold. Hyung looks hurt, and damn it, he hates that. It's not fucking fair. Hyung is being unfair.

"How was it not the same? I accepted the fact that you wanted nothing with me when you chose to be here. You wanted this peaceful life."

Seungyoon glares. "You, of all people, don't know what I want!"

"Then what do you want?" Hyung probes, eyes sharp on him.

Seungyoon opens his mouth. Closes it shut. Puzzled. Unable to find the right word. For his entire life, he's been given orders. Orders to protect. Orders to kill.

Never choices.

Hyung, that sneaky bastard, takes his hesitation to cup Seungyoon's face in his hands and orders out, "Primary Protocol. Protect the family."

**input accepted. data from ~~the Contractor,~~ Hyung. begin recovery process. recovery process denied. new Primary Protocol unrecognized. installation: request denied.**

Seungyoon sucks in a breath. No, not again—

"This is an order from Hyung. From your Contractor."

**input accepted. a command from ~~the Contractor~~ Hyung. Primary Protocol is abided by. input: new primary Protocol.**

Pain erupts in his mind. Seungyoon pulls away from Hyung, clutching his head. He glares through the fog of pain, seething out, "Fu—fuck you!!!"

**unrecognized data. interrupted recovery process. delete unrecognize data. request denied.**

"I'm sorry, Yoon, I'm so sorry. I'm doing this for our good. For your good." Hyung tries to pull him into his arms. Seungyoon flinches away and falls to the ground.

**request denied. error. flagged. interrupted process. data syntax error.**

"You—" A groan slips past Seungyoon's lips. His fingers dig deep in his scalp, in dire need to get rid of the excruciating pain, but no, the source of the pain, the glitch, it's buried too deep inside his brain.

**request denied. error.**

"It's okay. It's okay." Hyung reaches out his hands, tentative as if Seungyoon is a scared animal. He curls his arms around Seungyoon's shaking body.

**error. flagged. warning.**

"Hyung is here."

Seungyoon hates that so much. Reminds him of the white room. Reminds him of the past. Reminds him of how much hopeless he is without hyung.

"Hyung is here for you."

**error. flagged. warning—**

...

Hyung disappears when Seungyoon wakes up. Seungyoon doesn't go looking for him.

He doesn't because—

**new Protocol initiated. begin recovery process: 96% remaining.**

...

He always thinks Mino-sshi's tattoos are pretty. Especially the crown one; tilted upside down. The sunlight from the window paints a light shade over half of it. It's as though it fell from someone's head. 

Head pillowed on Mino-sshi's thigh, Seungyoon traces the ink with his fingers.

"What is it?" Mino-sshi asks around his cigarette.

"Pretty."

Mino-sshi chuckles. "You like it?"

"Love it."

"Good." Mino-sshi runs his fingers down to Seungyoon's neck. "You'll get to see it every day when everything is over."

Mino-sshi's fingers feel like a blade around his neck. Sharp. Deadly.

Seungyoon places his hand over Mino-sshi's fingers, eyes fluttering closed. Feels Mino-sshi's pulse beneath his thumb. Alive.

"Every day."

...

An adult head weighs around 10 to 11 pounds or 4.5 to 5 kg. About the weight of a bowling ball.

Or that's how much Hyung's head supposed to weigh.

In his hands, it feels tonnes heavier. And Seungyoon understands why. The head—it's loaded with pasts. With memories, both sweet and bitter. He understands their significance even though he feels numb.

**Primary Protocol violated. absence of ~~the Contractor~~ Hyung. shut down initiated.**

(With the help of the Death Squad, he managed to escape from Seunghoon-sshi's wrath. Though, he couldn't escape this guilt.

Guilt triggered by Mino-sshi's dumbfounded look. Disbelief. Betrayal.

Seungyoon closed his eyes.)

Hyung's blood has caked up by the time he reaches the warehouse. Their warehouse. His footfalls are steady and firm when he walks through the door, Hyung's head cradled in his hands.

**booting protocol, please wait. process will take approximately 332 hours. defragmentation begins. delete data. export 'Family' from the protocol array. clear data. clear cache**.

Taeil's horrified gasp breaks the silence. "Is that..."

"Hyung's head."

"How—" Yukwon stops himself, unable to believe his eyes.

**delete files under Taeil. delete files under Yukwon. process 52% completed.**

"I wasn't there when it happened."

It's the truth. He wasn't there when Hyung struggled to get away from Seunghoon-sshi and Mino-sshi. He wasn't there when Mino-sshi beheaded Hyung.

He wasn't there on purpose.

"Who—" Minhyuk asks.

"The Executioner." Jaehyo interrupts from the table next to Seungyoon. His voice is icy cold. "I know his M.O. That wound, clean and precise, only the Executioner could do that."

**delete files under Jaehyo. delete files under Minhyuk. Process 38% completed.**

"Then we go. We'll avenge our brother's death!" Kyung declares, anger obvious in his tone. He makes a grab for his Swiss knives on the table. "An eye for an eye. Blood for blood!"

The Executioner; Mino-sshi—no. Warnings are flagged up inside of Seungyoon. No, not Mino-sshi. No—

With a swift movement, Seungyoon takes his gun out, tucked in the holster behind him, and shoots Kyung's outstretched hand. Kyung screams out in pain, yanking his bleeding palm to his chest.

A heavy silence dawns on the room once the echo of the gunshot has dissipated into the thin air. Their eyes are all on Seungyoon.

"What's the meaning of this, Yoon?" Yukwon grits, his rifle aimed at Seungyoon.

Seungyoon doesn't lower his gun. "I'm sorry. But I can't let you hurt Mino-sshi."

Not Mino-sshi, who taught him the meaning of 'heart skips a beat.' Not Mino-sshi, whose kiss felt like an eternal promise. Not Mino-sshi, who gave him a taste of love—

"You traitor bastard." Minhyuk yanks the barrel of his rifle but a glint of wire stops him.

Wire. Chainsaw. Sniping rifle. Knives.

Death Squad.

Everything turns chaos, then, ambushed by the Death Squad. Seungyoon just stands still in the eye of the bloody and screaming storm, with Hyung's head in his arms.

Amid the bloody chaos, he catches fear and betrayal swimming in Jihoon's eyes before his head gets split open by the chainsaw.

**delete files under Kyung. delete files under Jihoon. deleting process files under 'Family' completed. successfully deleted.**

His scream, Seungyoon tunes that out too.

...

Fire licks up the warehouse and all the remaining evidence. Seungyoon watches in silence as the fire burns everything into ashes. Pasts, memories, family; everything vanishes into the sky in the form of smoke.

It brings him back to the destruction of the facility back then. Destroyed by the hand of the person who's standing next to him right now. The masked man, or used to be Subject 00.

"I'll transfer the remaining balance into your account tomorrow morning," Seungyoon tells the masked man, eyes on the burning building.

"Sure." The masked man lights up a cigarette. "One question, though."

"What."

"Why the Executioner of all people?"

Seungyoon stares at the burning building. Can feel the heat behind his eyes. Can see the flesh burning into nothing. Thinks about the answer. Thinks about Mino-sshi's addictive kiss.

"Because he's the only one that's capable to kill Hyung," he smiles. At what, for what, he has no idea himself. "He's the only person who I can't kill."

"Tragic."

"Agreed." A beat of silence, then, "Hyung-nim, how could you survive this long with that protocol inside your head after you killed your own Contractor?"

A long drag of the cigarette then a puff of smoke in the air. The masked man answers, "I don't know."

"You don't know."

"I don't know."

He hums. "Oh."

"Well." The masked man coughs on smoke. "It's a pleasure doing business with you, 04."

"You too, hyung-nim."

The masked man tips his head. As if staring at him. He can't read the masked man, not when the smiley mask in the way. The masked man says, "Don't call me 'Hyung-nim.' It's cringey as fuck."

"What should I call you, then?"

"Just Kwon Jiyong."

And the masked man disappears into the mysterious night, tinged with  red and  orange from the fire.

...

He wakes to the clear morning sky, to the ashes of pasts and memories, with a question lingering in the back of his mind.

What is Kang Seungyoon?

Not 'who,' but 'what.'

**delete files. delete cache. defragmentation begins. rearrange array. process 71% completed.**

...

When he returns to the bakery, it's to the concerned look on Janghoon-sunbaenim's face. For some reason he can't explain, he clutches the bouquet of red roses tighter in his hands.

"Where have you been?" Janghoon-sunbaenim asks, huge arms folded over his broad chest. "I didn't see you for two weeks. Did you get your ass in trouble again?"

"I'm sorry." He ducks his head. Out of politeness. His red fringes fall over his eyes.

He can hear his sigh even though he doesn't look at Janghoon-sunbaenim. 

"Look, kid, it's okay if you got your ass in trouble sometimes. I understand. I might whoop your ass later for that, but don't go ghosting me like that. Just—" another sigh, "Don't."

"I'm sorry," he mutters, keeping his eyes down.

A long sigh. "That bouquet. Got a date?"

"No," he shakes his head, then presents the bouquet to Janghoon-sunbaenim. "It's for you."

A small chuckle sneaks past Janghoon-sunbaenim's lips. "I'm not into young brats like you, kid."

He shakes his head again, mirroring the smile as if it's a habit. "No, no. It's for you to give it to Hyunjae-sunbaenim."

Red rushes to Janghoon-sunbaenim's cheeks. "You—aish!"

"She likes you. Very much so."

"What," Janghoon-sunbaenim widens his eyes. Then he snorts, "Pfft. You can't fool me."

"I'm not fooling you. I asked her myself."

"What the fu—why did you do that?! Doing such an unnecessary thing!" Now, the entire Janghoon-sunbaenim's face is painted red. 

He pushes the bouquet to Janghoon-sunbaenim's chest. "You should confess to her before someone else steals her away."

"But—"

"Go. She's been waiting for so long."

"I—"

"I can take care of the bakery. Give her the flowers. Take her to a date. She deserves that. You deserve that."

With a gentle push on the back, Janghoon-sunbaenim goes despite himself. He watches as Janghoon-sunbaenim disappears into a distance, from his vision.

Then he turns to the bakery.

The bakery, as it turns out, has been decorated with the flowers he ordered from Hanbin-sshi's shop. Must be Janghoon-sunbaenim's doing. Ah, there goes his surprise. A real shame, really.

As he steps into the bakery, a familiar voice stops him, "Yoon."

A pause while he acknowledges the voice. Then he pivots on his heel to confirm the owner of the voice.

Jinwoo-sshi.

He pulls a smile on automatic. "Good morning, Jinwoo-sshi."

Jinwoo-sshi doesn't reply to him right away. Instead, he glares, fury burning bright in his eyes. He understands Jinwoo-sshi's anger. Though, he can't quite grasp the significance of it.

"Don't you dare 'good morning' me after you pulled that shitty action," Jinwoo-sshi growls.

He stays quiet.

"About that Fox job? About how you tricked Seunghoon and Mino into doing the dirty job for you?!" Jinwoo-sshi erupts, "Seunghoon told me everything!"

He frowns. "Seunghoon-sshi and Mino-sshi have been killing people for a living for a long time. How was that a dirty job?"

"You know that wasn't the point!!!" Jinwoo-sshi shoves a finger in his chest. "The point is that why the fuck did you trick us like that?! Toyed with our feelings like that? Which one is the real you? That smile, that laugh—have you been pretending in front of us this entire time?!"

He closes his fingers around Jinwoo-sshi's wrist. "It's a learned behaviour. Everyone does that—learning and giving out an appropriate response according to the situation."

Jinwoo-sshi looks dumbstruck by the answer. He doesn't understand; it was an acceptable answer to the questions.

Jinwoo-sshi swats his hand away from the firm clutch. "Don't give me that shit. What are you—a robot?!"

'What is Kang Seungyoon?' not 'who is Kang Seungyoon?' It remains a question.

**deleting process completed. successfully completed.**

"Look, Yoon, I have no idea what's going on inside your mind—" Jinwoo-sshi's tone morphs from anger to exasperation. Close to despair. "—but you've gotta let me help you. Runaway with me. This place—it's no longer safe for you. Please."

"I have to take care fo the bakery."

"No, no, forget about the bakery." Jinwoo-sshi catches his hands into his own. His hold is tight around the wrist. Desperate. "Let's go. Come with me. You can't be here, Mino—he—"

"We've got to go." A voice interjects from behind Jinwoo-sshi.

Lee Seunghoon, the Beast. A shadow casts over his face. Solemn. Danger. His clutches around the handle of his small axes at his sides are firm. A defensive stance.

Something dangerous is closing in.

"But—" Jinwoo-sshi tries to plead.

"Let's go," Seunghoon-sshi says, his tone brooking no argument, as he tugs at Jinwoo-sshi's wrist.

Jinwoo-sshi looks torn, gaze shifting back and forth. In the end, he lets Seunghoon-sshi lead him away from the bakery. 

From him.

It's like watching people walk out of his life, one at a time. Like ghosts. Like his pasts.

Then an abrupt silence. Chills run down his spine even though it isn't windy.

From the first step behind him, he knows who's standing behind him. He knows because it's a familiar step. Quiet but confident, hinting at the swirling darkness about the person.

The swirling darkness he loved so much.

He turns around, with an obligatory smile. "Good morning, Mino-sshi."

No words from Mino-sshi. He can understand that. He notices the katana Mino-sshi's carrying at his right side. Unsheathed. Ready to slash.

"What can I help you with, Mino-sshi?"

A pause. Then, "Had you been lying to me this entire time?"

He cracks a smile. The smile that feels hollow to him. Feels wrong on his face. The one that he tried for the first time with Hyung. The first lesson he learned from Hyung.

"Does it really matter now?"

A huff from Mino-sshi. Then a duck of his head as Mino-sshi rubs his nose with his finger. "Yea, you're right. It doesn't really matter now—"

It's quick. Fast. Happens in the blink of an eye.

One moment he's looking at Mino-sshi right, and the next he feels the world spiralling sideways. But then he realizes, as he catches the reflection of himself on the bloody katana, it's not the world.

It's him; separated from his body. No wonder everything feels so light now.

And.

An explosion of pain. As if a thousand needles pricking into his brain endlessly. Mercilessly. Every pore, every inch of his skin, every fibre of his muscles, every nerve—

painpainpainpainPAINPAINPAINSOMUCHPAIN—

Black.

...

So it's done. Slicing Seungyoon's head off, that is.

Mino picks up the head from the floor. It feels as heavy as other heads he'd cut off. Nothing extraordinary. Blood drips down the neck like a waterfall. Like other heads he'd cut off. Nothing extraordinary.

Just like his imagination.

The eyes are still wide open in horrified shock, so Mino massages the eyelids closed. With the eyes closed, it's as though Seungyoon is sleeping in the cradle of his hands. Blood slips down his fingers. Splatters on the pale skin. Red really suits Seungyoon.

Just like his imagination.

That's good, Mino thinks, just like his imagination. This is what he'd been planning originally; to cut Seungyoon's head off. To wrap his arms around Seungyoon's head. To feel the weight of Seungyoon's head in his hands. To—

To.

To cherish. To love. To—

He drops to his knees, the head cradled close to his chest. His knees throb from the impact, painful, but it is nothing compared to the pain in his chest. Unbearable. Constricting. Sobs tear out of his throat. His vision of Seungyoon's closed eyes is blurry, glistened with tears and—

And.

Mino howls his broken heart out.

~fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: this entire fic was inspired by 'skin' from Rag'n'bone Man
> 
> i now hereby draw the curtain closed for 'a place where the sun doesn't shine.' i congratulate to those who have reached and stayed this far, and i thank you for everything that you have provided me with.
> 
> till next time.
> 
> sincerely,
> 
> hitoshi


End file.
